


hold on tight and don't look back

by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone



Series: OT3verse [11]
Category: Comics RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My house is yours, Gerard,” Grant says. “Feel free to -” He waves his hand around wordlessly.</p><p>“Blast my demon rock and roll on your stereo? Call in dancing girls? Fuck Frank on your kitchen floor?”</p><p>“Nix the dancing girls, I only got the glitter out of the carpet from the last time,” Grant tells him with an entirely straight face. Gerard can’t suppress a laugh, and Grant continues, “There’s coffee set to brew for you, Gerard, I make no other promises about the state of things.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold on tight and don't look back

Gerard can see through a small opening in Grant’s bedroom curtains that it’s a gorgeous day out. He kind of wants to open the curtains and look, but he’s not that much of an asshole. Frank and Grant are still asleep on the bed and undoubtedly hung over. Gerard curls his legs under him on the chaise and watches them. He wishes he had a sketchbook handy. He could probably find one easily enough, but that would require moving. He wants to draw the little frown on Frank’s face and the crease in Grant’s forehead.

He sees the door move out of the corner of his eye and looks over to see Johnny slink in through the crack.

“Johnny, no,” Gerard whispers, but it’s no use. He hops up on the bed and goes right for Frank’s face. Frank grumbles, reaching up to bat at Johnny, but the cat won’t be deterred. Frank cracks open an eye and glares at him.

“Ugh, I thought you liked me, you little asshole,” Frank says. Johnny just purrs his weird-ass purr. Grant rolls over, blindly reaches out to pet Johnny before picking him up and dropping him gently to the floor. For a moment Johnny looks horribly offended and then he wanders off. Gerard bursts out laughing.

Frank moans and buries his head under a pillow. Gerard clamps his mouth shut and gets on the bed, worming his way in between them.

“Sorry, babe,” Gerard says, kissing Frank’s forehead and then Grant’s. “Can I get you guys anything? Water? Coffee? Pain killers?”

“All of the above,” Grant says, but wraps his arms around Gerard so he can’t move. “In a minute.”

Johnny hops back up on the bed, this time coming at Frank from an angle out of Grant’s reach, and Gerard has to laugh again, though he tries to be quieter about it. This time Frank’s slightly more awake and absently pets Johnny with his eyes still closed.

“Devious little bugger,” Grant says.

Frank yawns and rolls onto his side, facing them. “I don’t mind. Now.” Johnny curls up in the crook of Frank’s body and starts his terrifying purr again. Gerard wiggles until he’s leaning against the mounded pillows, the soft fur just brushing his thigh. He traces his fingertips lightly over the curves of Grant’s face: eyebrows, cheekbones, the bridge of his nose.

“Has it been a minute yet?” he asks.

“You can keep doing that,” Grant tells him, kissing the palm of Gerard’s hand as it passes.

“Okay,” Gerard says agreeably. “Happy New Year,” he adds softly. “Again.”

“Guid Hogmanay,” Grant murmurs.

He’d said it at midnight too, just before kissing them both in turn, light little kisses that had still earned him catcalls from the rest of the party guests. Grant being Grant, he’d cheerfully flipped them the bird, told them to start pouring shots of whiskey, and dragged Frank off to the front porch. Gerard (and half the party) had followed, curious, while Grant explained that a dark-haired man crossing your threshold at midnight was good luck. “Supposed to be tall too,” Grant had stage-whispered to Gerard, “but -”

Frank had given him the evil eye. Grant, laughing, had just tugged him back across the threshold and bent him back in an extremely thorough kiss that set off a fresh wave of hoots.

After that, there had been shots. Many, many shots. Gerard, perched on the back of the sofa talking to Mikey and Geoff Johns, had just watched. And laughed. He isn’t surprised at the state of them this morning.

It takes a good half hour to prise either of them out of bed. They take turns in the bathroom while Gerard pads barefoot into the kitchen. Coffee and tea are easy enough to make, even among the few leftover pieces of party debris - a few stray shot glasses, some plates. Grant’s extremely neat, and Frank’s basically an Italian grandmother, but Gerard figures with them out of commission it’s up to him to clean up. He leaves a bottle of aspirin on the counter and notices as he does that the drift of cocktail-napkin cartoons has significantly grown in size. He carries his coffee over so he can flip through.

The hiss of the electric kettle cuts off, and Gerard looks over his shoulder to see Grant fixing himself some tea. Frank’s behind him, hair a little less of a ridiculous tangle than it was, and he makes a beeline for the coffee.

“What are you looking at?” Grant asks him after a moment, sipping gingerly at his mug and idly lacing the fingers of their free hands together.

“Jill,” Gerard chuckles, showing him the napkin.

Grant laughs too. “Very ...ah... creative, hm. Although I’d read that take on Wonder Woman.”

“I think you should write it,” Gerard tells him with a sideways grin.

“Do you, now?” Grant murmurs. “Might take some...research,” he adds, fingers slipping down the curve of Gerard’s spine. Gerard shivers pleasantly but changes the subject.

“She talked to me last night,” he tells Grant. When Grant just looks at him like _...And?_ , he repeats, “She _gave me the Talk_. It was. Well, _adorable_ , actually.”

“The Talk?” Frank asks, perching on one of the barstools and leaning his cheek on his hand. “Man, I hope she’s better at it than Mikey. I’m still not sure if he ever gave me the Talk, or if we were just talking about _Jaws_.” He giggles at his own joke, but Grant’s turning slowly redder and redder.

“Grant?” Gerard says.

“Lord, I can’t imagine what she may have said. Jill - she didn’t know about the both of you before, just - But now that she knows everything....” He’s still a little pink.

“What did she know before?” Gerard asks him.

“In 2008, I did a panel at Comic-Con with a comics author I admired,” Grant replies, putting his cup down and sliding a warm hand along the curve of Gerard’s jaw, “And afterwards, a little worse for drink, I told Jill and Vince all the many myriad ways in which I admired him, and a number in which I wished to admire him. And they’ve never let me forget it...yes. I can imagine what she may have said, after all.”

Gerard can barely breathe for the warmth in his chest. “Grant -”

“What did you say, Gerard?” Frank asks from his barstool, watching them with suspiciously bright eyes.

“I said,” Gerard says slowly, “that we love you …so, so much…” Then Grant’s kissing him, and he lets the napkin flutter back to the counter. Frank’s fingers close around his other hand.

When Grant pulls back, he moves around Gerard to stand by Frank, who spins a little bit in his chair to face Grant. “You, Frank, were a surprise. No, that’s not true. Of course I always found you delightful and too beautiful to be believed. But then one day you _argued_ with me. I can hardly recall what about, but you wouldn’t back down and you were so passionate and articulate. Well. Let’s just say I’m lucky Jill and Vince didn’t catch me after _that_ meeting.”

Frank opens his mouth to say something and no words come out. He clears his throat and tries again. “When was that?”

“Early 2009, I believe. You were standing just over there,” Grant points at a spot visible in the other room in front of a bank of windows. Suddenly Gerard remembers. Remembers watching the two of them debate and feeling a little overwhelmed by them, in a good way. Remembers he’d taken Frank home that night and fucked him into the mattress as if they hadn’t had sex in weeks instead of a day, tops. Remembers that was the first time he’d thought about the three of them together.

“That long?” Frank asks, clearly stunned.

“Yes.” Grant reaches out and runs his hands over Frank’s cheeks and into his hair.

“Really?”

“Yes, darling.” Grant kisses Frank then, soft and sweet, then hot and thorough. When he pulls back Frank sighs and tips his forehead forward against Grant’s chest. Grant rubs his head gently. “Let’s refill and see if we can’t find something interesting to watch in my DVD collection.”

“Love you,” Frank murmurs before lifting his head. Grant steps back and Frank hops down off the chair.

They decide to put on _Trainspotting_ with the volume down low. Frank falls asleep curled into Grant’s chest with Johnny in his lap and Grant dozes off too. Gerard is glad he had the presence of mind to grab a sketchbook; he tucks his feet under Grant’s thigh, keeps one eye on the movie and sketches all the things he wanted to earlier. When they wake up again, they look a little less worn around the edges.

“Think you can eat something, now? I could order pizza,” Gerard offers. They nod and Gerard makes the call.

“I can’t believe we start rehearsals again in like, two days,” Frank says and stretches his arms above his head.

“We’ll be in Japan before we know it,” Gerard agrees and then frowns. He’s looking forward to it. A lot. But leaving for Japan means leaving Grant.

Grant tugs him close. “We’ll make the most of our time. Though, unfortunately, I fear this month will be a stressful one on my part. I have a deadline coming up. Two, really.”

“We’ll help you however we can,” Frank says. “Even if that means fucking off.”

Grant strokes Frank’s hair. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I know that I may be somewhat... preoccupied.”

Gerard nods. After a while the doorbell rings, signaling that their pizza has arrived, and they settle back in with food and paper towels and DVDs for more movie watching.

*

Normally on rehearsal days Gerard and Frank wake up late, drive in to their practice space together, and go into practice mode, only to emerge sometime in the wee hours - usually for cereal. Gerard swears anything eaten after midnight is automatically breakfast. This time, though, they’re making an exception - for Grant, because the nocturnal lifestyle doesn’t quite jibe with his writing schedule, and they haven’t seen him for days. The other guys are probably glad for a chance to see their wives, anyway, Gerard thinks. Tries not to laugh himself silly, or seriously distract himself, by lumping Grant in with spouses in his mind. A few nervous giggles escape anyway. Frank eyes him suspiciously but just finishes packing up his equipment and tosses Gerard the car keys.

It’s a nice day, the kind of day people in California consider winter, but it’s actually warm enough for Gerard to shrug on a jacket and go outside to grill dinner. It’s portobello caps, because of Frank and Grant, but Frank marinated them in something that smells amazing; he knows Frank is inside concocting something with noodles and vegetables, too. He doesn’t hear the doorbell, but he heard the car pull up out front, so he keeps one eye on the back door.

Grant and Frank both come outside after a few minutes, and Grant’s in the middle of a story about something. Gerard just watches him for a minute before Grant sort of shakes himself and comes over to give Gerard a kiss. “Hello, love,” he murmurs, then goes on talking. He’s pacing, movements tight and controlled, almost like he’s angry - though he doesn’t seem angry - and jumping from topic to topic at random. Normally, there’s nothing Gerard likes more than listening to Grant talk, but this is not quite normal. Finally, he puts down his tongs and catches Grant by the hand.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey. What’s -” He feels stupid for assuming anything is wrong.

“Nothing!” Grant responds immediately. Too quickly, really. He sighs and then qualifies, “Not really. Just. Fucking deadline.”

“Just forget it for right now,” Gerard says. “Let us make you dinner. Have a drink. Frank?” Frank nods and goes to pour Grant a glass of wine.

Dinner was actually pretty much already made, and Grant does seem to relax at the table, sipping his drink and complimenting the food, and occasionally hooking a foot around the back of Gerard’s ankle or nudging the side of Frank’s hand with his fingertips. He won’t talk about the comic or his book, though, going a bit tight around the eyes every time it comes up, so Gerard and Frank tell him practice stories instead. They have no shortage of those.

As they clean up, the air in the room seems to get thicker. Grant watches their every movement with dark, avid eyes. It’s hard to not feel his gaze as something tangible, wrapping around their limbs as they move. Gerard leans in to kiss Frank in front of the sink and he feels it then; he feels it when he stretches to replace the wineglasses in a cabinet. He feels it when he sets a hand on Grant’s arm and says, “Do you want something else? Tea? Whiskey?”

“You know what I want,” Grant says.

Yeah, okay, that’s what Gerard wants too. Frank makes a soft little sound nearby that leaves no doubt how he feels about it. “Okay,” Gerard says a little breathlessly, and then Grant’s kissing him and he can’t even _think_ anymore.

Grant’s hands pull Gerard’s hips flush with his own and Gerard gasps. He goes from “getting pretty damn worked up” to “completely turned on” swiftly. He moans into Grant’s mouth and Grant pulls back, breathing heavily.

“Frank?” Grant gasps out, and Frank steps closer, his chest touching Gerard’s arm.

“Grant.” Frank sounds a little breathless himself. Grant releases Gerard and pulls Frank to him. Frank immediately wraps his hands around the back of Grant’s neck and kisses him. He brushes his thumbs along the space just behind Grant’s ear and Gerard sees Grant shiver. His hands slip up the back of Frank’s shirt. Gerard can see them moving across Frank’s back. Fuck, they’re hot.

“Bedroom. Now,” Grant says when they break the kiss to breathe. When they get back to the bedroom, Grant adds, “Clothes off.” They undress quickly. When he’s done, Gerard can’t help just sinking to his knees in front of Grant and resting his head on Grant’s thigh.

“What do you want?” he whispers.

Grant strokes a hand through his hair. “Everything. But for right now, since your mouth is right there, you might as well put it to use.” Even the joke has a thin thread of command through it, and Gerard laughs a little but then wraps his lips around the head of Grant’s cock and sucks. He’s vaguely aware of Grant pulling Frank to his side, but mostly he just concentrates on the feel of Grant’s cock in his mouth, the taste, the way he can feel Grant’s whole body responding to what Gerard’s mouth is doing. Grant’s fingers tighten in his hair and then pull his head back and angle it toward Frank. Gerard immediately goes as far down on Frank as he can, rubbing his tongue against the underside of Frank’s cock. Grant’s fingers are still tight in Gerard’s hair and he moans when Grant pulls a little.

“Fuck,” Frank moans and then Grant pulls Gerard off Frank’s cock, too.

“What do you want?” Frank asks Grant this time. Grant leans over and whispers something in Frank’s ear, and Gerard can’t quite catch the words, but he hears quite clearly how Frank’s voice breaks on a “Ye-es,” and he can actually feel his dick twitch. Frank steps back and Grant reaches for Gerard’s hands to tug him to his feet.

“Lie down on the bed,” Grant tells him. Gerard can see what Frank is doing now; he’s in the drawer of Gerard’s bedside table, pulling out the lube and something else, something garishly colored and - oh, yes. It’s one of their collection of toys, long and thick and electric blue. It’s Gerard’s current favorite, which of course Frank knows. Frank tosses the dildo so it thumps against the mattress by Gerard’s hip. He tries not to twitch. It’s clear it’s for him, and he bites his lip, writhes a little against the sheets when it takes them a moment to join him on the bed.

Grant joins him first, giving him a quick but firm smack to the thigh when he catches Gerard wiggling. Gerard sucks in a breath, surprised but not really disapproving, and Grant eyes him unblinkingly for a few moments before pushing Gerard’s knees wide, sliding up between his thighs, and leaning in for a kiss. He uses his teeth and it’s fantastic and Gerard wants so much more.

Frank climbs on the mattress behind Grant, hands sweeping up Grant’s back to curve over his shoulders, thumbs rubbing up Grant’s neck to press against the base of Grant’s skull. Grant arches into the touch and groans, and Gerard watches Frank lean over to touch his lips to the side of Grant’s neck. Grant splays a palm low on Gerard’s stomach. He can see Frank moving behind Grant, hips flexing as he ruts up against Grant’s hip.

“Grant, please,” Gerard begs, hips lifting. Grant smiles, focused on his own fingertips, which are trailing from Gerard’s throat to his chest to his stomach.

“Do you want me to fuck you with your toy, Gerard? Fuck you twice? I think I will. I think I’ll make you lose your mind. Do you think I can?”

Gerard groans, practically choking on his own breath when Grant’s fingers sweep across his inner thigh and then press back behind his balls without much warning. “Do you think you haven’t already?”

“Then I want to send you to another fucking plane of existence,” Grant growls. Grant pops the cap to the bottle of lube and squirts some on his fingers. He gives Gerard two fingers straight away and Gerard shivers and gasps and wills his body to relax. Grant doesn’t waste any time with the preparation. He gives Gerard exactly as much as he needs before Grant’s fingers are replaced by the toy. Gerard tries to keep his eyes open, to watch everything. Watch Grant’s face, watch Frank as he continues to rub Grant’s shoulders and back; but it’s too much. He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on the feel of the dildo slowly working in and out of his body with no one touching his cock.

“Fuck,” he gasps when Grant changes the angle and hits his prostate just right. His hands clench in the sheets.

“We’ve only just begun, love,” Grant says. “Isn’t that right, Frank?”

“Yessss,” Frank hisses. Gerard forces his eyes open to look and Frank’s no longer touching Grant, but preparing himself with his fingers. Gerard is momentarily confused until Frank swings a leg over Gerard’s body and leans down to kiss him. Gerard tries to thrust up, to make contact, but Grant is holding his hips down, and Frank is the tiniest bit too far forward, and he gets nothing. He moans in frustration and Frank fucking laughs at him, but leans down and kisses him again, licks his neck, and sucks at his sensitive spots.

Frank pulls back abruptly and moans. “Oh, god, Gerard, his fucking _tongue_.” Gerard moans as he realizes what's happening. He can imagine what it looks like, Grant steadily working Gerard with the dildo and Frank with his tongue.

“Please,” Gerard begs. He can’t help it. Grant chuckles and then his hand is closing around Gerard’s cock, slicking him up. It feels so good to finally be touched that Gerard can't hold back the relieved whimper.

“Move back, Frank,” Grant orders and Frank moves back and sinks slowly onto Gerard’s cock while Grant keeps fucking him with the dildo. Gerard thinks he might just die right here.

Gerard has had many opportunities to enjoy how strong and flexible Frank is, and Frank fucking down hard onto Gerard’s cock, pumping his own dick with one hand, head falling back - that’s a sight he’ll never get tired of. Grant’s backed off with the toy, making short little strokes in time with Frank’s rhythm. He lets go of Gerard’s hip, shifting his free hand to Frank instead. Gerard watches it sweep up and down Frank’s chest, teasing a nipple to make him gasp and arch back.

Grant leans forward to whisper into Frank’s ear again, and Gerard sees a flash of white teeth as he punctuates it with a nip. Frank licks his lips and nods. Grant’s lips trail down Frank’s shoulder, and then he’s pulling back and he’s taking the toy with him and Gerard whines and clutches at Frank’s arms, fucking up hard into Frank in reflex.

The next thing Gerard knows, Frank’s wrapping arms and legs around him and rolling them, tugging Gerard’s head down to get at his mouth, and Gerard scrambles to get his knees under him. He gasps and squirms when warm palms cover his shoulder blades, sweeping down the length of his back. Grant palms his ass, thumbs delicately spreading his cheeks, and Gerard moans against Frank’s lips. “Please, please, please,” he pants, and Grant grips harder, lines up and pushes in. The words turn back into moans. Grant’s fingers are bruising his hips and every thrust drives Gerard harder into Frank, who groans and clutches at Gerard’s shoulders.

Gerard leans down and presses his face into Frank’s neck even as he pushes back frantically against Grant. “Frankie,” he whispers, feeling fingers in his hair and lips against his temple, Frank’s body tight around and against him and Grant inside of him, heat and sensation all around. Gerard braces himself with one arm, trusting Grant’s grip on him to keep their hips flush, and reaches for Frank’s cock. He barely gets a hand around it before it’s pulsing in his palm, Frank gasping and cursing and coming apart. It’s enough to send Gerard over the edge, and he shouts wordlessly, the sound muffled against Frank’s skin.

He kisses Frank briefly as he pulls out, wrung out but still frantic at the feel of Grant inside him, each thrust sending sparks up his spine. Grant’s hands skate up his sides and he tugs Gerard up against his chest. His last few thrusts are accompanied by his voice muttering helplessly into Gerard’s ear, “Love you, love you.” A ragged inhale, and then he comes. Gerard turns his head to kiss him, and Grant pulls out but presses up against Gerard’s back again immediately, lips finding Gerard’s over Gerard’s shoulder.

When Gerard finally manages to twist around in his arms, Grant lays him down next to Frank, kisses slowing and gentling. Frank curls close, pushing in for his own kisses, laughing and biting at Gerard’s shoulder when he doesn’t immediately get them. Gerard squeaks and wriggles away, and Grant allows himself to be tipped over in between them.

Frank always says sex makes him sleepy - and it’s true - but he has this thing he does sometimes, where he’ll nestle against Gerard and give him dozens and dozens of tiny, drowsy kisses, and Gerard hates when they’re rushed, hates when he misses out on it. Except he’s kissing Grant right now the same way, and that’s just fine in Gerard’s book, because Gerard can watch them. Watch them, and occasionally lean over and steal one or two of his own from both of them.

Grant is running his fingers gently up and down Frank’s arm, and when he stops it’s Gerard’s first warning. When he pushes himself off the bed to go clean up, he doesn’t climb back in, and Gerard says questioningly, “Grant, what -”

“I have to go home,” Grant answers quietly. “I have work to finish.”

“Tonight? Not tomorrow?” Frank sits up, swinging his legs off the bed. Gerard doesn’t get up, but he sits up, kneels on the mattress next to Frank.

“Yes, I’m afraid I must go tonight.” The mood from earlier is back, and the quick, impatient movements. He’s already pulled on his slacks and shirt, and when he shrugs on his jacket Gerard reaches for a sleeve and tugs Grant over to the side of the mattress.

“You’ve never -” Gerard stops himself before he says more. No, Grant’s never left before morning, but they’ve been on tour, in hotels, for most of this relationship. Grant’s been going out of his way to come see them. He’d feel shitty opening his mouth now. “Okay,” he says softly.

He sneaks a look at Frank. Frank is looking fixedly at the carpet, not at Grant or Gerard. Not quite so okay. Gerard should have known. Frank’s utterly domestic, in a way they all like to tease him for but which is as much him as his smile, his tattoos. He practically glows when they’re all curled in the living room, gathered around the table. Sleeping in their bed. But it’s as much for himself as it is for Frank that Gerard wants to keep Grant here.

 _Stay_ , he wants to say. _Stay forever_ , is what he means. He won’t say either. Right now, it would be cruel. He knows, logically, that it’s nothing to do with them, but Gerard would do anything within his power to take that brittle look from Grant’s eyes.

Frank gets up and disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he’s wrapped in his bathrobe and he starts picking clothing up off the floor and folding it, skirting carefully around the bed. Grant meets Gerard’s eyes, and Gerard grimaces and shrugs a little, like “You did it, you fix it.” He’s not interested in getting in the middle there, and he realizes suddenly mid-gesture how indelibly real this relationship has become.

Gerard’s not sure what Grant actually reads in his face, but whatever it is, it softens Grant’s agitation enough that Grant turns to Frank and pulls him in for a tender kiss. Frank, because he’s Frank, bats him away. “No,” he says irritably, “no, you can’t be all -”

“Yes I can, Frank.” Grant’s back to implacable, though the tenderness still shows around the edges. “I get to do that, because you know I love you, and you get to still be angry with me, because I know you love me.”

“I’m not angry,” Frank mutters. He’s lying, but Gerard knows it’ll blow over soon enough. Knowing Frank, it’s at least half at himself. It’s why he shuffles off the mattress and wraps his arms around Frank’s waist.

“Call when you’re finished,” he tells Grant. “We’ll be waiting.”

*

The next day, Frank is sprawled out on the couch, reading. Sinatra is curled up at his feet and Mama on the back of the couch. He’s got one earbud in and the other is dangling down his chest and into his hoodie pocket. Gerard can hear tinny little noises from it every once in a while, but it’s not annoying. Gerard is working on his third cup of coffee in the big chair with his legs curled beneath him and absently sketching Frank’s form when Frank jumps and scrabbles at his hoodie pocket for his phone and presses the answer button.

“Hello?” The sound of Frank's voice gets a lift of the head from Sinatra, and Mama cracks an eye down at Frank. Gerard chuckles.

“We’re okay. Just relaxing before heading into practice. How are you? Did you finish what you hoped to?”

Clearly it’s Grant. Gerard wishes he could hear what Grant is saying, but Frank will tell him.

“Good,” Frank says emphatically, and then after a beat he adds quietly, “I’m sorry I was a jerk last night.” Frank reaches up to tug on his hair while he listens to whatever it is that Grant says in response, then smiles, and a little worry Gerard hadn’t even known he was carrying dislodges itself and goes away.

“Okay. Yeah. I love you too.” Frank hangs up and smiles wide at Gerard. Gerard smiles back. “He said to tell you he loves you and that he’ll call again when he can.”

When he can turns out to be several days later. It’s late. They’re actually just pulling into their driveway after practice when Gerard’s phone starts buzzing. “Hello?”

“Hello, love,” Grant’s tired voice greets him. “How was practice?”

“Good. Everything is really starting to come together. We get to practice with the full lighting rig starting next week, so that should be fun. What are you up to? Making progress?” Frank unlocks the door to the house and punches the code into the security system. Gerard stoops down to greet Mama and Sinatra as Grant talks.

“Yes, progress has been made. I’m not sure how pleased I am with it, but at least there’s something in the scripts instead of blank pages. I’m not done by any means, but. I would love it if you and Frank came and stayed with me for a little while. I don’t know how available I’ll be and I know you two have rehearsals, but... I just want to know you’re _here_.”

Gerard’s heart swells. “We can do that. We can be there tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Grant says. “I’ll see you then. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Gerard manages to get in before the line goes dead. Frank raises an eyebrow at him. “He wants us to come stay. He’ll probably be holed up in his office the whole time, but he said he wants to know we’re there.”

Frank’s face goes all soft and his smile is one that Gerard knows means he’s feeling really, really sappy. Gerard loves that smile.

“We need to, like -” Frank waves his hands around, taking in the room around them. Gerard parses what he’s saying easily enough.

“I know. I was thinking the same thing yesterday. I - you know I really fucking hate the thought of leaving this place but -”Gerard loves their house. It’s tiny and cute and in a nice area and they’ve been so happy here but - it’s not big enough, not for all of them. Frank’s nodding a bit, solemnly. He gets it. “Maybe we can talk about it after tour, look at some places,” Gerard says and runs a hand through Frank’s hair.

“Think you could survive living with cats?” Frank asks and stands up, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s waist.

“Think you could?” Gerard shoots back.

Frank snorts. “Johnny and I have come to an understanding. I think. And Madeline ignores me. It’s not me who’s allergic.”

“I didn’t even take any allergy meds before we went over there last time. I think my body is getting used to it.”

“I guess we’ll have to call the neighbor kid to take care of the dogs again. At least in the evenings. We can come by in the mornings before practice.” Frank frowns. Gerard knows one of the things Frank hates most about being away from home is being away from the dogs, and Gerard isn’t exactly a fan either.

“Maybe we can start introducing them to the cats? Start taking them with us? I mean, obviously we’ll have to talk to Grant about it, but I know they’re around dogs when they’re in Scotland, and Mama and Sinatra are pretty good with Bunny and Snowball, so maybe we won’t have to leave them all the time?” Gerard suggests. Frank’s whole face lights up at the idea.

“That would be perfect.” Gerard nods and then yawns wide. Frank snorts and leans forward to kiss his cheek. “C’mon, let’s get some food and put ourselves to bed.”

The next night, Gerard calls Grant as they’re walking out of practice. Gerard is sure the call is going to go into voicemail when at the very last second, he hears Grant’s voice.

“Hey, it’s me,” Gerard says. “We’re just leaving practice now, so we should be there in 20 minutes or so.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’m not sure... that is, there’s still so much to do, I’ll likely neglect you horribly.” Grant sounds tired and stressed and regretful.

“Grant, we know. It’s fine. We’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?”

It’s late - so very late that Gerard is surprised Grant is even still awake. He’s still dressed, though, and when he lets them in the door the first thing Gerard says is, “Are you still working?”

“I saved my scripts after you called,” Grant replies.

It’s not really an answer, but Gerard figures he’s trying to be attentive. If they told him to go ahead and get back to work right now, he probably would, which is why Gerard says firmly, “Good, let’s get some sleep.”

Frank doesn’t even bother talking about it, just grabs Grant and steers him down the hallway. Gerard locks the front door and picks his bag back up, and by the time he gets to Grant’s bedroom Frank has already tossed his bag at the foot of the bed and is methodically stripping them both, and Grant’s standing still and letting him. He looks about ten times more relaxed already, and something clicks in Gerard’s head, a tiny little fizzy understanding which he ignores for the moment. It’s two a.m.; lots of things are fizzy right now.

Frank’s got himself and Grant down to tee shirts and underwear, and Gerard starts undressing himself, watching them. By the time he’s fished pajama pants out of his bag, Frank’s got Grant in bed and is wrapped around him like a blanket. Grant’s eyes are closed already, and Frank’s murmuring something quiet between lazy kisses. Gerard climbs in bed and gives them both kisses of his own.

It’s morning before he knows it, light streaming through cracks in the draperies, and Gerard and Frank are tangled together on the bed. No Grant, but a blue post-it is stuck to the nightstand next to where they’ve left their phones. It says, simply, _You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

Gerard bites back a ridiculous noise. He leaves it there for Frank to find and extracts himself so he can go to the bathroom. He takes his time, brushes his teeth, crawling back between the warm sheets with Frank when he’s done. He’s wide awake though, so he just watches for a while. Eventually Frank cracks an eyelid and says sleepily, “You know that’s creepy, right?”

“You do it too,” Gerard tells him, lying back down so he can press their noses together.

“Never said I didn’t,” Frank mumbles, kissing him and then adding, “You’re minty.”

“Yes, because I’ve been up, lazy.”

“Blow me,” Frank tells him. Gerard’s in a good mood, so he does, slithering down the bed to the sound of Frank’s surprised giggle. He’s in an even better mood after Frank reciprocates, but even though they weren’t loud - though they weren’t exactly silent either - it’s still just a little disappointing when Grant doesn’t appear.

Frank goes into the bathroom afterwards, and Gerard heads for the kitchen. He taps on the closed office door on the way, and Grant calls him inside. “Is this okay?” Gerard asks. He knows how _he_ works, but he’s never been around Grant in deadline mode before, and he wants to be respectful.

Grant had sounded a little far away when he answered, but now his mouth is twitching with a smile. “Am I that frightening, my love?”

“Terrifying,” Gerard answers, rounding the desk to give him a kiss.

“My house is yours, Gerard,” Grant says. “Feel free to -” He waves his hand around wordlessly.

“Blast my demon rock and roll on your stereo? Call in dancing girls? Fuck Frank on your kitchen floor?”

“Nix the dancing girls, I only got the glitter out of the carpet from the last time,” Grant tells him with an entirely straight face. Gerard can’t suppress a laugh, and Grant continues, “There’s coffee set to brew for you, Gerard, I make no other promises about the state of things.”

He’s already making tiny abortive motions toward his keyboard, so Gerard tells him, “We’ll find our way around,” leaning in for another kiss. He leaves Grant to his computer, slipping out the door just as Frank is emerging from the bedroom. Frank raises his eyebrows, and Gerard shakes his head and mouths, _Later_.

They get into the kitchen and sure enough, the coffeemaker is ready. The kitchen is kind of a mess. At least by Grant’s standards. There are dishes stacked in the sink and crumbs on the counter and a smear of what appears to be jam near the toaster. Frank automatically sets to work, emptying the dishwasher of the clean dishes inside (through some trial and error since neither of them are 100% sure where everything goes yet) and re-filling it, while Gerard wipes down the counters and sweeps. The mess really isn’t that bad, just messy compared to Grant’s usual levels of cleanliness, so they’re done quickly. Then they sit on the couch and drink their coffee and look out the windows to the valley below.

“So?” Frank asks. Johnny wanders in and rubs up against Frank’s legs before hopping in his lap. Frank pets him absently, eyes fixed on Gerard.

“I don’t know, he’s focused and twitchy and I’m surprised he’s eating at all, but clearly he’s at least eating toast. He said to make ourselves at home. It’s hard to read him. I can’t tell if we’d bother him if we went in there with him, or what.” Gerard sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He tucks his feet under Frank’s thigh and reaches out to let Johnny sniff his fingers. “I just have no idea how he works or what he needs from us and I wish I did.”

“The way I see it,” Frank says, wrapping his free hand around Gerard’s ankle and squeezing, “he asked us to be here, so he’s expecting at least some kind of distraction every once in a while. If we bother him, he can ask us to stop.”

“Yeah.” Gerard sighs again.

They sit like that until the coffee is gone. Johnny even lets Gerard pet him a little bit before they’re through. There are a few more hours until practice and Frank disappears toward the bedrooms. Gerard follows quietly a few moments later.

“Hey,” he hears from Grant’s office.

“Frank. Good morning, darling.” Grant sounds distracted, but also genuinely happy to see Frank.

There’s the quiet sound of a kiss and then Frank asks, “D’you mind if I sit here and read?”

“Not at all,” Grant answers and Gerard hears Frank settle down somewhere. Then the only further sounds he hears are the sound of the keyboard and the periodic turning of pages from Frank.

Gerard goes back out to the dining room, where he can set up his laptop on the glass table. He has his own scripts to work on. And he does, getting so immersed that hours pass, and only the sound of clinking silverware from the kitchen rouses him. He looks up; it’s Frank making sandwiches. Frank sees him looking and gestures to the food. Gerard nods. Frank brings him one of the plates and then disappears down the hall, reappearing several minutes later without the other plate but also without Grant.

“He wouldn’t take a break,” Frank says as he sits down with his own food. “He’s been typing ever since I’ve been in there. He’s got like eight books open on the desk. I didn’t ask.”

Gerard hums. “Maybe later he will,” he offers, peeling a strip of crust off his bread and chewing on it. Frank just gives him a look that says, _We’ll see._

When it’s time to leave for practice, Gerard ducks into the bedroom to look for his phone charger, and Frank goes back into the office. When he peeks in the door, Grant is tugging Frank into his lap, and Frank is straddling his hips and leaning in for a kiss. “Is that office-appropriate behavior?” Gerard teases from the doorway.

“Aren’t I lucky to not work a proper office job?” Grant counters.

“For real,” Frank mutters; his eyes close as Grant combs his fingers through Frank’s hair. “Mm,” Frank hums. “You’re stubbly.” He is; Gerard’s not sure he’s ever seen Grant when he wasn’t clean shaven, but he’s got several days’ growth on his head and face right now. It’s oddly compelling, and Gerard can’t blame Frank for sitting there and rubbing their cheeks together.

“You’re heavy,” Grant replies.

Frank laughs. “This chair’s just too small; want to relocate?”

Grant shoots Gerard an amused look. “I think your ride’s leaving, darling,” he tells Frank.

“No, I think it’s right here.” Frank sticks a foot down to push the swivel chair around in a circle. When they drift to a stop, he leans in and gives Grant one more kiss. “Now _your_ ride’s leaving,” Frank tells him, hopping off and grabbing his messenger bag.

Gerard crosses the room for a kiss of his own. He runs a hand over the fuzz on Grant’s head, then wraps a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him softly. “We’ll be back.”

“Extra keys are sitting on the hall table,” Grant tells him.

“Okay. Good luck.” There are two loose keys sitting on the small table near the front door when they get out there. Gerard hands one to Frank and they share tiny smiles before going outside to the car.

*

They go feed and play with the dogs for a little while and then head to practice, which goes pretty well. Gerard tries texting Grant as they’re leaving to see if he wants them to pick up some takeout for him, but he gets no answer. He frowns at his phone, and then over at Frank, before buckling his seatbelt.

“Maybe he doesn’t have his phone with him?” Frank suggests. “Call the house.” Gerard punches the buttons but hands the phone over to Frank so he can drive. “No answer,” Frank says after a moment. “He wouldn’t have taken the phone off the hook, would he?”

“I don’t know,” says Gerard. “I sort of wouldn’t be surprised.”

They drive the rest of the way in silence, or nearly. They’re both tired, and neither of them know what to say. When Gerard unlocks the door, the house is dark except for a thin strip of light streaming down the hall from under the office door. “Grant?” Frank calls, scooping up a purring Johnny from the floor and walking down the hall.

“Don’t let him in,” Grant says from his office when Frank pushes the door open. “I just shut him out of here.”

“Are _we_ allowed in here?” Frank asks sweetly. Gerard cringes. This might not go well.

“Of course you are,” Grant answers, clearly exhausted. Frank hands the cat over to Gerard, who holds him gingerly while Frank rounds the desk to rub his shoulders. Grant closes his eyes, slumps under Frank’s hands.

“Come have something to eat with us,” Frank says.

Grant sits back up and props his elbows on his desk. “No time,” he sighs.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Frank replies.

“And I need to work.” The last word is bitten-off, brittle.

Frank’s hands fall away from Grant’s shoulders and he comes and takes Johnny back from Gerard, cradling the cat against his chest. “Well, then we won’t distract you.”

“Frank -” Grant starts, but he’s already out the door. Gerard stays behind.

“Grant, that was -”

Grant fixes him with a pained look. “I’m under deadline, Gerard, don’t tell me you don’t understand that.”

“I do. And Dan DiDio will bend over backwards to keep you happy, so -”

“That is entirely beside the point.”

“The _point_ is, you asked us here, so don’t be a dick when we’re trying to figure out why.” Grant looks stricken, and Gerard restrains himself from crossing the room to comfort him.

“I told you, I need to know you’re here,” Grant says quietly.

“Then know it, if that’s enough.” Gerard meets Grant’s eyes for a moment, then turns to follow Frank.

 

***

 

Grant waits until the door closes behind Gerard to drop his head into his hands. Dog above, but he’s tired. An insistent throbbing has started behind his right eye, indeed, had started quite some time ago. He’s got the script for seven more pages to write, then he can go to bed for a few hours.

Perhaps he should have told them more explicitly what to expect. Perhaps he should have spent a bit more time thinking about what he really needs. Words are his lifeblood, and he has a surfeit of them for all occasions, but he’s helpless when he can’t find the right ones.

Grant doesn’t do helpless well.

It’s quiet for a while, except for the clicking of his keys, then he hears a peal of laughter from down the hall from one of them - Gerard, he thinks - and a trail of quieter giggles. Then a moan. It’s the moan that almost breaks him. He wants. Wants so much. At thirty, he’d never imagined he could be so in love with anyone. At fifty - almost fifty-one, Grant tells himself ruefully - he’s consumed with it. It makes the reproachful way they’d both looked at him hurt more.

He stops typing. The bedroom is right across the hall. They haven’t shut the door, he thinks, because he can still hear them; voices low and rising every so often on a soft exclamation. It would be so easy to get up and join them, and Grant wants to do it with every fiber of his being except for the few contrary neurons screaming, _Seven more pages._

They’ve gone quiet before he can bring himself to start typing again.

He works for three hours before he calls it quits. It’s practically morning, but Frank and Gerard don’t stir when he crawls into bed with them. Even in his sleep, though, Frank cuddles close, feet twining with Grant’s and hand landing on his neck. “My beautiful boy,” Grant murmurs. Frank sleeps soundly; he won’t wake. Gerard turns over. He’s just too far away to touch, and Grant’s too tired anyway. He gathers Frank closer and falls asleep thinking about it.

His boys. They’re still asleep when he wakes himself with a start, scant hours later. His computer is calling cruelly from the other room. Leaving the bed is an exercise of will; twenty minutes later a cup of tea is steaming neglected at his elbow as a sticky glob of plot jiggles into place.

Grant’s in the middle of a page that’s less plot and more glob when the door opens and he snaps out an automatic, “Not just now.”

The door doesn’t close. He finishes his paragraph and then looks up. Gerard leans against the door jamb, tousled and mouth-watering and raising a killer eyebrow. “You’re fucking lucky I’m not Frank,” he says coolly.

Gerard’s smart mouth and his snide remarks are one of the first things that drew Grant to him. He can’t think of another time it’s actually been directed at him in earnest. He’d feel worse if he wasn’t more than half-lost in Bruce Wayne’s head. “If you were Frank? What then, love, do tell?”

Gerard narrows his eyes. “Really, Grant? Don’t you know by now? Were you _here_ last night?”

Grant laughs helplessly. “I’ve been here a lot longer than that.” He’s practically rooted to the chair.

“Then you know.” Gerard frowns.

“It’s you standing here, Gerard,” Grant points out lightly. “What are you going to do?” He’s expecting, with every particle of self that can be spared, that Gerard will back down.

He’s surprised. “Try it again and find out,” Gerard replies.

“Gerard,” he breathes. There it is again, that smart mouth. Perhaps, Grant thinks, he does like it when it’s directed at him, because right now he feels - “Come here,” Grant says.

Gerard eyes him a little. “No. You’re working. Just keep working.”

“A bit bossy today, love?”

“Yes,” Gerard says shortly, looking him up and down again for a moment before turning and walking back out.

Frank doesn’t come in. Grant finds himself waiting for it, finds himself disappointed when it doesn’t happen. He wonders if Gerard warned Frank away. He’s still thinking about it later when he leaves his office for a fresh cup of tea and runs into Frank in the kitchen.

“Grant,” Frank breathes. “Are you -”

“Just a break, darling,” he murmurs regretfully, but he sets his mug down on the counter and corners Frank, backing him against the cabinets. He nuzzles at Frank’s neck; Frank smells like Grant’s shaving cream, and a little like cigarettes. “I want you,” he says into Frank’s jaw. “Want you so much.”

“That’s not fair,” Frank replies, and Grant’s heart clenches a bit at his tone. “It’s not. You know what to do about that.”

“I can’t. Frank.” He runs his tongue along the curve of Frank’s jaw. “I want to take you and Gerard to bed, and I want to stay there, but that means I have to -”

“So go write.” Frank kisses him, firm and warm and gloriously dirty, then ducks under his arm and slips away before Grant’s nearly ready to let him go.

They leave, and he loses track. Grant has never, not for one moment, believed he actually has taken on too much. He’s always been able to listen to his plots like music, and if the melodies twist and jangle he just has to stop and untwist them, let one play itself out. It’s the untwisting that leaves him twisted up, forgetting there are things like food and sleep until exhaustion forcibly reminds him. His normal routine, such as it is, is part the Protestant work ethic ingrained in him since birth, part a concession to DC’s publishing schedule and the extent to which he’s been forced, over the years, to take his editors’ advice to heart, and part the efficiencies of his assistant.

Nothing’s been normal about this book, and nothing’s been normal about the past few weeks. He’s been clinging to his routine because they’re a part of that, dinner dates and sleepovers. Days off spent in bed, because too soon they’ll be back to phone calls. When the scripts started misbehaving, inviting them to stay was the best compromise he could think of for outright asking them to move in, but the book’s still trying to push them out. Grant’s angry with himself for letting it. He’s angry with himself for letting them think that’s what he wants, for snapping at them when all he wants is to hold them.

The most interesting development today has been Gerard and Frank both pushing back.

It’s not exactly that Grant doesn’t notice the time passing, the sun sinking low outside his windows then setting entirely. He notices. He lets it sink into his awareness and set off his alarm bells about time passing, tasks unfinished. By the time he hears a key in the front door, late in the evening, he’s consumed by the tension it brings.

Both Frank and Gerard come into the office, as they did last night, but Grant barely looks up. He’s busy describing a page layout and doesn’t want to lose the idea. They wait. Silently. It’s probably not a good sign. Ordinarily Grant’s mind would be clicking over to social mode right about now, would be telling him what to do, what to say; to tell them how glad he is to see them. And he _is_. Frank’s in one of the cardigans that makes him look like the world’s youngest and most tattooed grand-da, and Gerard is appealingly rumpled in one of the plaid button-downs he and Frank seem to have been favoring lately.

He looks up. They’re standing side by side across the desk from him, lined up like schoolboys called before the principal...except for their posture, which is stern and remote, even Gerard’s. Grant stares. He usually finds their matching body language unimaginably endearing, but right now they’re a united front, and he’s very much afraid it’s against _him_.

“Did you make your page goal today, Grant?” Gerard asks.

“I - nearly. I axed a section and started some edits earlier this evening.”

“So you can quit, and come to bed with us,” Frank says.

“No, I can’t. Because it’s not done.” Grant rubs a hand over the back of his neck, tosses his pen with a bit more force than necessary onto his desktop.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Gerard retorts. Grant slowly lifts his head and meets Gerard’s eyes. What he sees there.... Grant shivers a bit. Gerard’s eyes are hot yet implacable.

“I’d have thought you’d understand,” Grant tells him.

“I understand perfectly,” Gerard tells him. “Stand up. We’re not going to bed without you.”

“Are we giving orders now, my love?”

" _I_ am giving orders. _You_ are going to listen, and fucking obey for once.” Grant shivers again. It goes against every inclination he has, to let go; but he’s drained, beyond tired, and yet somehow Gerard’s face, his voice, is still sparking every nerve in his body into high alert. He shifts his eyes to Frank, whose own eyes are equally implacable.

“Apparently someone needs to be in charge, before you work yourself into the ground,” Frank adds. “You keep telling us we have free rein here. We’re using it.”

The part of Grant that is irritated - and he’ll admit this part is there, and isn’t small - wars for a few moments with the part that is unexpectedly and thoroughly turned on. “Let’s see it, then,” he replies smoothly, hitting the keys that will save his work and leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

It’s Gerard who takes charge, unsurprisingly. Any other day, Grant might take the time to marvel at the way he visibly slips into the persona, the aggressive, unapologetically sexual pose he often takes on stage. It’s better now, because it’s not really a pose, and there’s no time to marvel because Gerard’s rounding the desk looking intent. He stops in front of Grant’s chair and runs his fingers along Grant’s cheek.

“It’s inconvenient, that you’re not wearing a tie right now.”

“Would you lead me around by my neckwear, Gerard? I’m not at all sure that’s an appropriate use for Italian silk.”

“I’ve done it before. Haven’t I, Frankie? He likes it,” Gerard says teasingly, looking over his shoulder at Frank, who’s leaning against the door jamb now, tapping his foot. When Grant raises an eyebrow at him, he smirks.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Frank laughs. “Guess what, babe, you’re not gonna find out _what_ I like if you’re locked in your office.”

Grant is on his feet before he even realizes it. “I know what you like,” he purrs. Gerard blocks his path to Frank, tilts his chin up to make eye contact. “I thought you wanted me out of my office,” Grant says mildly. Gerard holds his eyes for a moment without answering, then steps aside and waves expressively. Frank is already halfway across the hall and halfway undressed. Gerard shuts the office door with a decisive click behind the two of them.

He’s still tired, but all thoughts of his scripts have fled his mind. When they put their minds to something they’re a one-two punch, Gerard pertly snapping directions, Frank teasing with a twist of his lips, like they’re designed to reduce him to rubble. Perhaps they are.

Grant steps into his bedroom and feels immediately more at ease. It galls him, still, that he’s let his work twist him up so tight. One would think he’d have learned, after The Invisibles, after The Filth, but here he is, a faint tremor in his hands and a fire in his belly. “Let’s see it,” Grant repeats, and perhaps he can’t be faulted for the slightly breathless rasp of his voice.

Frank pauses by the corner of the mattress, stripped to the waist already with his shirt dangling from his fingers. His ink looks practically alive. Grant can’t help staring. “It really is too bad you’re not dressed up,” Gerard murmurs in Grant’s ear, fingers playing with the hem of Grant’s shirt. “He likes that, and I’d make you undress for him.”

“I undress for him all the time,” Grant answers as Gerard tugs the shirt up far enough to feather his fingers over Grant’s stomach.

“Not like this.” No, nothing like this. It’s like being back on the video set. Gerard is demanding, not asking. Grant can feel it acutely, and Gerard’s playing up every gesture, every word like the frontman he is, putting them on display. Frank’s nothing if not an attentive audience.

Frank's mouth is hanging open a fraction and his eyes flit from Gerard to Grant, to where Gerard's hands have started tracing the scar on Grant’s stomach. Grant wants to go over, to lean over Frank and kiss that mouth. But Gerard is still in front of him, his hands sure, and he's the one in charge right now. Grant's inclined to let him stay that way. The firm set to Gerard's jaw is still there, but his eyes have softened a bit. He pulls Grant's shirt up over his head and traces his fingers along Grant's collarbone before stepping back.

"Pants off," Gerard orders, sitting on the bed next to Frank. They're both looking at him like they want to eat him alive. Grant can't help but smile at them and he realizes it's the first time in far too many days that he's really done that without being distracted by his work. He takes a deep breath, gets so far as opening his mouth, but Gerard interrupts.

"Pants."

Really, Gerard can order Grant around any time. It’s hotter than he - okay, it’s every bit as hot as he would have expected. “You’re not requiring my input this evening?” Grant teases.

“Do you want to fuck?” Gerard says back, raising an eyebrow even as he reaches out and runs a finger down Frank’s neck. He leans over and kisses Frank’s shoulder, looks up from under his eyelashes at Grant.

“Yes,” Grant tells him, with feeling.

“Thanks for the input. Strip. Or do I have to make you?”

Grant can’t help laughing. “No, love, you do not.” He reaches for his waistband, undoes his trousers and steps out of them after ridding himself of his shoes and socks. After a moment of hesitation, he hooks the band of his briefs and sends them to the floor as well, stepping away from the tangle of clothing and closer to where they’re waiting.

"Come here," Gerard says and Grant steps directly in front of them. Frank reaches out and pulls him closer, rests his forehead on Grant's hip. Grant can feel Frank's breath there and nearly puts his hand on Frank's head to just direct him down. He resists, but he can't not touch Frank, so he tips Frank's chin up to look at his face.

"We missed you," Frank murmurs.

Grant runs a hand through Frank's hair and cups his cheek. "I'm sorry." He looks at Gerard who returns the look steadily. "There's only so much time until you leave and I've not been using it properly at all."

Gerard scoots over a few inches and pulls Grant down onto the bed between the two of them. Frank's mouth immediately finds Grant's shoulder and Gerard leans close and whispers in his ear, "We're using it properly _now_. Get back against the pillows." Grant does as he's told and they shift seamlessly along with him. Both of them have their mouths on him: Frank at his neck, Gerard against his chest and moving down his stomach.

Grant turns his head, nosing at Frank until he tips his head so their mouths can meet. Frank presses closer against Grant’s sprawled torso, kissing his way up Grant’s shoulder and lifting up so he can frame Grant’s face with his hands to kiss him again.

Grant can’t remember the last time he’s felt so overwhelmed by the sheer power contained in Frank’s small form. He mumbles Frank’s name against Frank’s lips, trying to tell him how Frank’s making him feel, but Frank just shushes him without even pulling back and keeps kissing him. Gerard’s hair tickles Grant’s stomach and his tongue coasts along the cut of Grant’s hipbone. Stifled by Frank’s lips, Grant’s moan catches in the back of his throat, and he reaches out with the hand that’s not clutching Frank’s waist. His fingers barely brush Gerard’s hair before they’re tangling with Gerard’s, and Gerard presses their joined hands into the mattress by Grant’s hip while his other hand slides slowly up Grant’s thigh.

Grant’s hips lift automatically, his knees falling apart. He can feel Gerard’s breath washing across his skin and he’s bracing himself for Gerard’s mouth on his cock when long fingers nudge up behind his balls instead and he gasps.

Suddenly he wants it, wants fingers and cock in ways he hasn’t in a long time. Frank trails kisses down his jaw and back to his neck and Grant looks down his body at Gerard, brimming over with want for things he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted. Needed. Gerard meets his eyes, but he looks hesitant for the first time all evening.

“Gerard, _please_ ,” Grant breathes. All the hesitance clears from Gerard’s face and his fingers stroke back further. Grant can’t help the hitch of his hips, especially not when Frank starts talking quietly while his hands run all over Grant’s chest and neck and shoulders like if he stops, he’ll die.

“He’s so fucking good,” Frank tells him. “He’s gonna make you lose your mind.”

“He does so frequently.” Frank rolls one of Grant’s nipples between his fingers and Grant gasps out, “So do you.”

Gerard lets go of Grant’s hand and stretches out toward the night stand for the bottle of lube. This is a process Grant has watched Gerard perform many times with Frank, so he mostly knows what to expect, but that doesn’t prepare him for the sensations in the slightest bit. Gerard has long, graceful fingers, but his hands are strong. More than capable. The first finger makes Grant turn and press his forehead against Frank’s, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Hey,” Frank whispers, “hey, now.” He presses his thumb against Grant’s lip, easing it from beneath his teeth before leaning over and kissing him softly. “Relax, we’re going to take such fuckin’ good care of you.”

“I. I.” He has no words. “I love you,” Grant moans as Gerard’s hand keeps moving, the stretch and silky drag of skin on skin leaving him breathless. “You have no idea -”

Gerard shushes him absently, one slick palm closing around Grant’s cock as he crooks the fingers of the other. “We do. I do. I want - god, Grant -” Grant arches and swears as Gerard finds the right spot. Frank is still pressed against his side, solid and warm and tiny but so, so strong. He wraps Grant in his arms, callouses scraping over Grant’s skin and setting off a second wave of shudders.

Gerard adds a third finger and takes the head of Grant's cock into his mouth at the same time. And Frank continues touching him, kissing him, murmuring in his ear, holding him tight with the other arm. He forgot how overwhelming this could be. And with two of them, it's just that much more intense.

Gerard lifts his head up and looks at Grant, strokes a hand over his hip and lifts his eyebrows.

"Yes. Now. _Gerard_." He shudders again. He can’t stop. Gerard pulls his fingers out and Frank rubs Grant’s chest through it, then Gerard drops a kiss on his hip, his stomach, his chest, and finally kisses his lips. It's just a brief press against his mouth, and then Gerard is resting his forehead on Grant's shoulder and slowly pushing in. Frank reaches over and runs his fingers through Gerard's hair and then tugs a lock of hair until he lifts his head and looks at them.

Gerard’s face, when Grant can see it, is absolutely indescribable, his eyes shining hot and yet somehow still so full of love that Grant can’t breathe. “I’ll make it good,” he whispers. “Just let me show you. The best you’ve ever had.”

“It is already,” Grant rasps out. “It couldn’t be any - fuck, Gerard. Just...don’t stop.”

“Haven’t even begun yet.” Gerard pulls back and slowly thrusts back in. Grant clutches at the hand Frank has resting on his chest, lacing their fingers together. Frank squeezes his fingers in return. Grant can’t decide who to look at, up at Gerard or to the side at Frank. But then Gerard is thrusting again and Frank is holding onto his hand and whispering in his ear and Grant’s eyes squeeze closed instead.

“Love you so much,” Frank says. “He feels so good, doesn’t he?”

Grant can only moan in response and wrap his legs around Gerard, pulling him even closer. On the next thrust Gerard leans down and kisses his and Frank’s joined hands. When he lifts back up, his hand wraps around Grant’s cock and Grant arches into it. Frank just keeps holding him tight.

Grant forces his eyes back open, gasps a little with each movement of Gerard's body. He's wound so tight and it's been so long since he’s done this and just watching Gerard's face leaves him breathless. He reaches up to touch Gerard's hair, shining bright in the dim room, and Gerard turns his head to kiss Grant's wrist. "You're - this is - all for you," Gerard mumbles against Grant's skin. "Tell me, tell me -"

"Slower," Grant tells him. "You feel - I need -" Gerard does slow down, gripping Grant's knee and shifting his angle and then he's nudging against Grant's prostate with each gentle thrust and it's better - indescribably good - and worse at the same time, because he's driving the words right out of Grant's head. He swears softly, helplessly, in several languages or maybe no language, and then he feels Frank's lips against his ear again.

"Look what you're doing to him, babe. Just look."

Grant looks, because how can he not, but he laughs softly too. "Look what he's doing to me."

"I am," Frank tells him. "Oh, I am."

He wants them both so much he can’t even contain himself. "Frank -" Grant pleads, flexes his fingers where he's gripping Frank's hand, and Frank leans down to kiss him hard.

"You're gonna come in my arms," Frank breathes. "That's all I need."

Gerard reaches up past Grant to cup Frank’s cheek. The look on Gerard’s face is so intensely beautiful, and when Gerard turns back to him, his face doesn’t change one bit. Grant has to wrap his free arm around Gerard’s neck and pull him down, to kiss him until they can’t anymore.

Gerard finally pulls back and speeds up his movements the tiniest bit. Grant rocks into Gerard’s thrusts, writhing against Frank, whose hips are hitching as well. They’re all close, so very close. On the one hand, he’s ready. So, so ready. He wants to feel Frank come beside him, wants to feel Gerard come inside him, wants to come himself like he hasn’t for a long time. But he’s not ready for it to be over, not even a little bit. Gerard seems determined to make it last for as long as possible. His thrusts are smooth and steady and tightly controlled.

“Fuck, Gerard,” Grant gasps. He has more to say. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but Gerard thrusts again and it’s gone. And then Gerard’s hand is back on Grant’s cock and the only thing in his head is sensation.

“Let go, babe,” Frank says. “We’ve got you.”

“You _do_ ,” Grant says with a moan. He means more than physically, but he trusts them to get that. Grant arches against Frank and slams his hips back hard onto Gerard’s cock and comes.

Gerard moans Grant’s name brokenly. Grant wants to tell Gerard how beautiful he is, how good he made Grant feel, but he can’t seem to catch his breath and all he manages is a moan right back. It takes a few moments to register what Frank is saying to him, he’s so far gone.

“I know, babe. I know.” Frank is stroking Grant’s brows and face with the fingers of one hand, his lips pressed to Grant’s temple.

Grant leans into the touches and uses his legs to urge Gerard to speed up.

“C’mon, Gee,” Frank says, laying his head on Grant’s shoulder. Grant feels him turning his head to look up at Gerard. “Gee.”

Grant reaches out and wraps a hand around Gerard’s neck and pulls him down. “Come for me, Gerard,” he orders against Gerard’s lips then presses their mouths together. In seconds, Gerard is gasping and swearing and coming hard. Grant shudders again. Gerard’s hips stutter a little bit and then he stills, chest heaving against Grant’s.

They both turn to look at Frank when he moans. He’s got a hand wrapped around his cock, stroking fast and hard, and it's not long before he’s coming against Grant’s hip. Gerard reaches over and pushes Frank’s hair out of his face and behind his ear.

“So fucking beautiful,” Grant says, lips brushing Frank’s hair. He tightens his arm around Gerard. They stay like that for a moment, tangled together and holding on to each other. Then Gerard pulls out and Grant sucks in a sharp breath, distracted by the sudden empty feeling. When he can breathe again, he’s caught anew by the suspiciously teary glint in Gerard’s eyes. “Gerard,” Grant sighs, beyond moved. They look at one another wordlessly for a moment. “I _love_ you,” Grant tells him.

Gerard settles into the crook of Grant’s arm and smiles, and Frank reaches across to swipe a stray drop of moisture from Gerard’s cheek. “You’re amazing,” he says. “Both of you.” He leans down to kiss Grant, then pulls Gerard close to kiss him too, and Grant just watches them, sated and sore, eyes drooping with sudden exhaustion.

Gerard pulls back after a few moments and touches Grant’s lips with his fingers, then pillows his head on Grant’s shoulder. “No more, okay, Grant?” he whispers. “We need you like this, not driving yourself crazy in your office.”

“Gotta know when to stop,” Frank adds. “Don’t worry, we suck at it too. But, babe - we need you.”

Grant pulls him close, presses a kiss to his cheek, his forehead. “I need you too. More than I ever expected. I’m sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t - that it went this far.”

There’s a pause, then Frank adds quietly, “Maybe it was too far, but. I think this was maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Gerard chokes out a half-horrified snort of laughter, and after a moment Grant’s chuckling too. “Oh, Frank, I really do love you.”

“Yeah,” Frank answers smugly, “I get that a lot.”

Eventually, tired laughter fades into sleep.

The next morning Grant wakes up before the sun, just as he's done every morning for the past couple of weeks. His first instinct is to roll out of bed and go to his office to work, to get some words out, to finish the script. But Frank snuffles against Grant's chest in his sleep and the previous night floods back. He's sore in all the right places and Frank is warm in his arms, so he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again. Work can wait.

The next time he wakes up, it's to Frank's beaming face.

"You're still here," Frank whispers.

Grant reaches up tucks Frank's hair behind his ear. "I'm still here," he whispers back. "Turning over a new leaf."

Gerard makes an adorable sleepy noise next to them and rolls closer, burying his nose in Grant's neck. "Like waking up with you here," he murmurs. Grant turns his head and presses a kiss to Gerard's temple. He's once again feeling a little overwhelmed by his love for the two of them.

They lie in bed, kissing and touching lazily, for a few more minutes before Frank kisses them both one last time and rolls out of bed. Gerard and Grant soon follow and find him in the kitchen making tea and coffee and poking through the refrigerator.

"I was thinking omelets?" Frank asks over his shoulder.

"Sounds delicious," Grant says; he pours himself a cup of tea and makes Gerard a cup of coffee.

They spend a quiet hour or two eating and talking before Grant goes to turn on his computer at last, and it's so pleasant, Grant can't fathom what induced him to miss this every morning up ‘til now.

*

Writers don’t entirely change their spots overnight, even with such irresistible enticements. Grant is so immersed in his work, he barely registers them coming home after practice that night. Gradually their little noises and chatter filter into his brain. By the time Gerard pokes his head in the door and asks him a question, Grant's saving his work and getting up from the desk.

"I'm sorry, love. Repeat the question?" Grant asks.

Gerard smiles happily at him. "I asked if you wanted a sandwich. Frank decided he was throwing over the fascist cereal dictatorship he claims I have going. He wants grilled cheese."

"I would love a sandwich," Grant says. He pulls Gerard to him, and Gerard comes into his arms easily and they kiss for a few minutes.

"Are we eating or fucking?" Frank calls out from the kitchen and Grant pulls back to laugh. "Because if we're fucking, I should really turn off the burner."

"Eating, darling," he calls back, spins Gerard around and steers him toward the kitchen.

The next morning begins much like the previous one, except Frank and Gerard have the day off. Frank goes to run errands and leaves Gerard and Grant sitting in the office talking about their projects. Grant explains the conclusion to his latest issue, clicks through to show Gerard the latest line art from Yanick, and gets distracted by something on one of the panels. He starts jotting down notes in an email, and the next thing he knows Gerard's across the room, curled in the corner of the office couch. "I'm sorry," he says automatically. He actually means it this time, but Gerard just smiles and waves a hand.

"No problem, I'm getting work done too!" Gerard waves a tablet at Grant, and Grant can see it's half-covered with thumbnails for one of Gerard's books.

"Give me a minute to finish this up and then you'll have to show me," Grant says.

A strange look crosses Gerard's face and he freezes. Grant raises an eyebrow at him for an explanation. "I haven't been intimidated by you since, like, the second time we met. But I am never more aware that you're, well, _you_ than when you look at my comics," Gerard says. They’ve talked about this before, and Grant knows this, but he must make some sort of face because Gerard rushes to clarify. "It's not that I don't want you to look at them or I'm afraid of what you'll think. It's like…I'm just extra aware that you're not only this person I love, but also a person who makes these things that inspire me and challenge me.” He pauses, and says thoughtfully, “But maybe that makes you the best person _to_ look at my work and tell me what you think."

"I'm constantly inspired by you as well, you know," Grant tells him, mildly but seriously. "In both your careers."

Gerard grins. "I know that," he says. "It just...it makes me so happy that you're there for me on that level, too. And I think about it a lot. How lucky I am, to have -" Gerard's sentence trails off into silence, and he just smiles and ducks his head, cheeks going a bit pink.

Grant gets up, email be damned, and goes to sit on the couch with Gerard. He reaches out a hand and cups Gerard's cheek. "My life up to this point has been largely good. I always felt that I've listened properly to whatever magic has been guiding me and have been rewarded for it. But these past few months with you and with Frank have been more wonderful than I ever imagined possible."

"You won't be saying that in a few hours when Frank shows up with the dogs," Gerard teases, still a little pink.

Grant waits a beat, then says, "Yes, I will. I want you here, always. You, Frank, the menagerie..."

Gerard takes a deep breath. "Frank and I were talking a couple of weeks ago, and this - what we’re doing here - is fine: we love staying with you and having you stay over. But there's not really enough room for all of us and the dogs and the cats, and for all of us to work. And neither of us particularly likes the thought of being anywhere but where you are. Maybe when tour is over we can start looking for a place that would fit all of us?"

Grant's pretty sure his heart actually leaps in his chest. Personification of internal organs aside, he starts smiling and can't stop at all. "There's Scotland, of course," he says, "I've always thought of it as my home, and this place as merely a house. But a place for the three of us, here in L.A. - that would be a home as well, wouldn't it?" Gerard smiles, a little wobbly, and Grant continues, "I'd love it, Gerard. More than anything."

Gerard leans forward and kisses him and then pulls back, beaming. "Okay. Good. The timing will probably be weird what with Scotland and the festival season and Comic-Con, but we'll figure it out."

"Yes," Grant says and leans in for another brief kiss. "We will. Now show me what you're working on."

Gerard hands over his tablet and Grant examines the thumbnails, reads the pages of script, all the notes Gerard has jotted down. He finds himself laughing out loud more than once; Gerard's humor really shines in his writing. And his ideas, his imagination, are incredible. He takes things in directions that would never occur to Grant and Grant fucking _loves_ it.

Frank comes home after a few hours and he’s got both dogs with him. Grant walks out to the entryway as soon as he hears the key scrape in the front door and is greeted by a sedate Mama and the brindle blur of Sinatra dragging Frank into the living room. Frank swears and Sinatra whines and then there's some hissing, and Grant just leans against the foyer wall and shakes his head. He sees furry flashes as both of the cats run and hide and looks up at Frank, who's trying to hide his giggles, and back down at the small brown dog at his feet. Mama just gives them the most unimpressed look ever and walks into the kitchen to lie down in the sun. “That went well,” Frank says, still snickering a little. Grant just sighs. His cats don’t particularly care for dogs, but as former strays he trusts them to be able to hold their own, and Sinatra is just excited. Practically vibrating with excitement, in fact, so Frank lets him sniff around a bit and then takes him out to the back yard.

Grant follows him out, wraps his arms around Frank from behind and rests his chin on Frank's shoulder. They watch Sinatra romp around and sniff every single bush and lift his leg a few times. Gerard calls out through the patio doors, "We should take him for a walk after lunch. What do you guys want?"

Grant calls back, “You're offering to cook?"

Frank giggles and adds, "You're offering to go outside?"

Gerard’s put-upon huff is clearly audible even from outside. Grant turns his head to kiss the side of Frank’s neck and then pulls back. Frank follows him back inside, leaving Sinatra to his exploring. Gerard glances from Grant to Frank, looks down at the counter for a moment, and says, "While you were gone, we talked a little bit about getting a place for all three of us."

Frank immediately looks at Grant, all shiny-eyed and beaming, and says, "Yeah?"

Grant can't help but smile back. "Yes, indeed." He’s overtaken by a deep contentment, especially when Johnny ventures back into the room and Frank scoops him up and starts carrying him around while he digs through the cabinets. Easily, like it’s a habit; the best kind of habit. Gerard is watching too, and he finally says, "Sit your tiny little ass down, if you're going to mock me I am going to actually cook for you and then we are going to eat. _Outside_."

“Tiny?” Frank huffs. “Who are you calling -” His words cut off in a mumble as Gerard throws a dish towel at him, and Grant has to turn around so Frank won't see how much he wants to laugh. Except Frank knows anyway, and he whacks Grant on the ass with the same dish towel when Grant goes to get a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge. Grant feels the only honorable thing to do is to waylay him and apologize. With his tongue.

The apology seems to be accepted.

When Grant is done with Frank, he turns to find Gerard leaning on the breakfast bar watching them. He steps up to Gerard, sits the salad bowl Gerard's holding on the counter and then steps between Gerard's knees and kisses him as well. Gerard clings to his shoulders so when Grant pulls back, he doesn't go far. Grant touches his lips briefly and says, "I can't really think of anything better than a home with the two of you where I can do this daily. When you're not on tour, that is."

Gerard smiles. “I can't wait," Frank chimes in, and Grant knows they mean it.

They go eat the very passable Greek salad which Gerard has prepared, and they all three eye the dishes for a moment before Grant shrugs and says, “Fuck it.” Instead Grant and Gerard follow as Frank grabs Sinatra’s leash off the deck rail and whistles. They take Sinatra for a walk in the hills, taking turns pitching a stick into the scrub for him until Grant looks at his watch and says, "I have a conference call in twenty minutes."

Frank slips a hand into Grant’s, and Gerard says, "We'll walk back with you." And they do.

*

Grant’s phone buzzes against the surface of his desk, signaling a text. He very industriously ignores it for a minute while he finishes typing the paragraph of panel description he’d been writing, but then grabs his phone to check the sender. If it had been from almost anyone else, it would have been ignored in favor of finishing his page, but it’s from Frank. Frank and Gerard never get ignored. Also, it’s a picture message and he’s curious.

From the tiny thumbnail, it just looks like a picture of Frank pulling a face in the Conan greenroom. Grant glances at the clock. Yes, they’ve been gone for quite some time so he’s sure they should be filming the performance soon. Frank’s probably bored, and antsy.

Grant sighs fondly. He wonders where Gerard is. Gerard knows _exactly_ what to do with a bored, antsy Frank. So, for that matter, does Grant. And then he looks at the picture again. A second later, all thoughts of his panel - of _everything_ \- have left his head.

He pokes at a few buttons and taps out a responding text - to Gerard. _He's doing this to torture me, isn't he?_

Gerard’s response is almost immediate. _you mean frank?_ followed by _i’m in the other room, what is he doing_.

Grant calls. He can’t help himself. “Frank,” he says.

“This is Gerard,” Gerard says oh-so-helpfully, and Grant would roll his eyes but the only thing he’s capable of is a slightly more insistent, “ _Frank._ ”

Gerard says, in much the same tone - because he _knows_ Frank - “What did he _do_?” It’s quiet for a moment, and Grant doesn’t know what Gerard is doing, but then he hears a quiet, “Holy _shit_ ,”come across the line. Apparently Gerard walked into the next room, or Frank did, or something, and he -

“See?" Grant breathes into the phone.

Gerard stutters into the phone for a moment and then says, “Frank. Your hair. Frank!”

His hair. He’s somehow, somewhere, clipped it close to his head with not a word to anyone - apparently - and Grant may be staring at a three-inch screen but his fingers are _twitching_ with the urge to touch it, to - “I am going to fuck him through the floor,” he whispers. Promises.

Gerard groans. “I have to go on national TV in, like, ten minutes,” he chokes out. “Don’t do this to me.”

“To you?” Grant laughs breathlessly. “You’re all the way across town. Together.”

Gerard groans again, clearly tries to choke it back. “I have to...uh...go warm up my voice,” he mumbles. “Here.”

The next thing he hears is Frank, with a hesitant little “Hello?"

“Frank. Your hair.” Grant is starting to feel like a broken record.

"Oh. Um. Yeah. Is it bad? I was just really tired of dealing with it and there's a barber on set. It was kind of impulsive, I know."

Grant just makes a protesting noise. Sometimes, with both his boys, there are literally _no words_. Finally he says the only other thing he seems to be able to enunciate in English. “When do you come home?”

"7-ish? Unless traffic is bad?” Frank clearly doesn’t even get it.

“That is not soon enough,” Grant growls, voice dipping low, insistent. Frank should recognize that tone of voice.

“Oh,” he breathes into the phone.

Clearly they’re on the same page now. Grant adds, "Gerard may kill you for doing this to him before you're supposed to go on TV, you know.”

Frank laughs and says, a little smug, fucking _teasing_ because he’s an ass, “..we took a car service to get here. Whatever happens in the car on the way home, I doubt it will be murder.”

All Grant can do is make another inarticulate noise of frustration. He’s so hard right now, he feels like he may explode, but his brain is still ticking enough to let him think - at least on one subject - and he murmurs, “Actually, don't let him touch you. And don't you touch him. Not until you get home."

Frank breathes in kind of hard and Grant smirks into the phone. All of a sudden, he's calm again. Grant says goodbye, wishes a breathless Frank a good show, and quite methodically finishes up his work, cleans up, and makes his way into the bedroom to gather together some...supplies.

He’s waiting when they tumble in the front door, carefully not touching, which means that they listened to him, which means that they’re in the mood to play. And probably in the mood for a few other things, too.

“Hello, darlings,” Grant says easily, looking them up and down. They haven’t even changed out of their stage clothes. “Tell me about your afternoon.”

“I got a haircut,” Frank says with a little lift of his chin. Testing. Always testing.

“I can see that.” He stands up, circles around them, looking. “Nice tie.”

“I made him keep it on,” Gerard tells him, practically glowing with suppressed energy; with the dye fading from the tips of his hair he even looks like he’s on fire.

“How thoughtful of you,” Grant murmurs, reaching out to tweak one of the zipper pulls on Gerard’s coat. “And you?”

“In a hurry,” Gerard mutters, eyes sweeping over Grant, up and down. “Mikey laughed. Ray said we were under express orders to tell him nothing.”

Grant chuckles. Typical. He switches his gaze to Frank. Frank’s showing it less, which is mildly surprising, but he can tell they’re both out of their minds by now. The dominant part of him is thrilled, even as the more emotional part is absurdly touched, and he says, “Well, you two are quite obedient. I admit I'm rather impressed.”

Frank bites his lip and looks at Grant, dark-eyed and puppyish. It’s Gerard who’s pushing this time, cocking his hip, tipping his head back to bare his neck.

Grant tells them to go back to the bedroom, where there are two things waiting for them on the bed. A little coil of rope, and a strip of fabric. Gerard’s lips twitch. “Are we flipping a coin?”

“No, I dont think so,” Grant says easily. He still isn't touching them, and they're not touching each other. He circles the bed and watches out of the corner of his eye as Frank flexes his hands to keep from reaching out and touching _someone_. “Darling,” Grant murmurs, “I seem to recall you starting this. So you'll just have to wait for us to finish it." He turns and walks over, runs a hand very deliberately over Frank's head, the newly-shorn hair like velvet under his fingertips. Frank's knees practically buckle, and Grant leans in and says into his ear, “The ropes are for you.”

Frank can't hold in the moan. Gerard makes a noise too. Grant smirks and orders Frank to undress Gerard, "But don't touch him more than is absolutely necessary."

Frank pouts. “Well, what are you doing to _him_?”

“Did I say you could ask questions?” Grant purrs, but he answers anyway. “Nothing, yet.”

Frank starts undressing Gerard and Grant watches closely - for more than one reason, really - but Frank is very careful about not touching Gerard’s skin, mostly just touching his clothes. The pants are a little more difficult, it appears. Gerard’s stage pants are fucking _tight_ , for one, and Gerard is definitely hard. He stands still for it. Mostly.

When Gerard’s completely nude, Grant hands Frank the blindfold with a smirk, and Frank runs it through his hands compulsively before lifting it to Gerard’s face. His hands are trembling a little, and Gerard is wide-eyed and blinking rapidly. “Gee, you know you -”

“Yes,” Gerard interrupts, “I know.” His eyes flick over to Grant. “I -” He bites his lip and stops speaking, nodding at Frank.

Grant waits until the dark fabric is securely knotted over Gerard’s eyes before continuing, “Okay, Gerard, undress him now.” He’ll have to do it by feel. Grant settles onto the mattress to watch.

Frank only moves when Gerard needs him to. Grant can tell he's itching to move, to _touch_ , but he doesn't. Gerard starts with his pants and socks and shoes, hands sweeping up Frank’s shins and thighs, and ends with Frank's shirt and tie, hands curling around Frank’s neck and delicately splaying across Frank’s chest. When he's done, Grant comes up behind Gerard and slides one hand up his bare back to the nape of his neck and says, “Good job. Now sit tight.” Gerard merely moans.

Grant moves on to Frank, who’s watching with vivid, darting eyes, visibly jittering in place. “So good,” Grant murmurs. “Frank, darling, climb onto the bed, sit up against the headboard and grab on. The rope’s for you, as you may have guessed.” Frank does so silently, and Grant kneels on the mattress to fasten his wrists with coils of the soft, thin rope. “Good, Frankie?” he murmurs, and Frank nods. So, so good.

When he's done, Grant has to stand back and just _look_ at them. Frank is looking back. It’s part pleading, part turned on and wanting so much, part love; but Grant goes to Gerard first, and Gerard jumps when Grant touches him. He can't see, and Grant knows Gerard really sort of hates that. It doesn’t stop Grant from putting his hands all over Gerard, and murmuring to him about how beautiful he is, and how good he was to not touch Frank at all, and then he says, “...but now I want you to.”

Grant helps Gerard move over to where Frank is, even though Grant knows Gerard could probably do it himself. The bare skin of Gerard’s waist is silky-hot and perfect under his palm, and he places Gerard's hand on Frank's cheek with the other hand and steps back. “Touch wherever you’d like,” he whispers. Gerard immediately brings his other hand up and runs both hands over Frank's head, tracing his hairline and face and eyebrows and back over the fuzz of Frank's buzz cut. Frank whimpers and pulls against the ropes a tiny bit.

Grant sits on the edge of the bed next to them and just runs his fingertips up and down the skin of Frank's inner arm for a while. He can see everything, of course, so he makes sure that wherever Gerard's hands and mouth travel to, his hands go someplace else. And Grant knows Frank can see them both, is watching wide-eyed, but he's waiting for the moment when Frank finally closes his eyes and throws his head back.

That moment comes when Gerard's fingers start tracing Frank's chest piece by memory. His fingers hardly stray out of line. “Please,” Frank begs, “oh, please.” Grant finally moves his own hand to touch Frank's head again. The hair is so soft, and _lord_ , Frank's face.

Frank squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip, hard, and Gerard can’t possibly see that but he hauls in an unsteady breath anyway, sitting up and bracing himself with a hand on either side of Frank’s waist. Grant leans in for a handful of hair and a kiss. Frank moans below them. "Won't be able to do that to me anymore."

Grant nips at Gerard's bottom lip and pulls back just enough to turn his head and smirk down at Frank. "Mmm, no. I'll find other ways to grab you and hold on, I'm sure." Grant tugs playfully on the rope and Frank whimpers again. And at that, Gerard makes a little frustrated noise of his own.

Grant turns his attention back to Gerard for a minute. He kisses along Gerard's clavicles and up his neck and runs his hands everywhere, and the sounds Gerard makes are like strange and beauitful music. Eventually he pulls back and Gerard nestles against Frank's side. And Frank tugs at the ropes again.

Grant cups Frank's cheek in his hand and leans down to kiss him and says, “Stop struggling and relax, Frank. The way you look right now, do you really doubt we'll come to you?” Gerard just rubs his face against Frank's shoulder.

"No," Frank whispers. "I just."

"I know," Grant soothes. "You're used to using your arms and your hands in everything you do. But, Frank," Grant says. "Tonight, I don't want you to. Tonight I want you to take every touch we give you. If you can't do that, I need you to tell me."

Frank sucks in a deep breath, bites his lip, and says, "I want that."

Grant leans down and kisses him on the forehead, "I'm glad." He looks at Gerard. His body seems more relaxed now that he's closer to Frank. Grant reaches out and runs a finger over Gerard's brow and down to his chin. Gerard doesn't startle as hard this time, but Grant asks anyway, "And you are so visually oriented. I see that little furrow." Grant rubs the spot between Gerard's eyebrows. "Tell me if it's too much, love."

"I - don't need to see you, I _know_ you both. I just -" Gerard's struggling even more than Frank, just showing it less. "I want it so much," he whispers. "He must look -"

"Tell me," Grant says, skimming his palm down Gerard's side to rest on his hip. "Tell me and I'll take it off."

Gerard takes a deep breath. "Walking into that dressing room this afternoon was like I popped open the DeLorean door and stepped into 2003. And it was like – like a visual reminder of all the chances he's given me. And. _His fucking face_ , I love it, I -" Frank tugs at the rope again, and this time Grant can't blame him at all. He runs a hand down Frank's arm and then touches Gerard's face, runs his hand over his hair and rests a hand on the knot at the back of his head.

"Whatever you need, love," Grant says and pulls the blindfold off Gerard's head. Gerard blinks up at him, but keeps his eyes fixed on Grant. It's clear he's waiting for Grant to tell him he can look at Frank. Grant feels a swell of pride and reaches out, nudging Gerard's chin toward Frank.

Gerard reaches out a hand to touch before stopping short. "May I?" Gerard asks.

"Yes, love." Before Grant even finishes the "s" of "yes", Gerard's hands are stroking over Frank's head and face, his eyes never leaving Frank's. The two of them share lesser versions of this look all the time, but this. This makes Grant feel almost as if he's intruding on something very private and very intense, something he's not meant to see. Grant knows he is allowed, but he can't help but watch them regardless. They're indescribably beautiful like this, so full of love and passion for each other.

Frank bites his lip and breathes deeply through his nose, then whispers, "Grant."

"Darling?"

"I need..." Frank trails off.

"What do you need?" Grant runs his hand down Frank's arm and touches the ties circling his wrist. "Do you need me to remove these?"

Frank shakes his head no. Grant laces their fingers together and kisses the top of Frank's shoulder.

"What do you need?" he repeats.

"Just you," Frank sighs, turning his head and rubbing his cheek against Grant's.

"Frank," Grant breathes, "you have me." He leans down and presses their lips together, and Frank opens for him immediately. More, always more with Frank. It's not even obedience, though it is that, too, especially when they're playing like this. The only word for him is generous. "I want to look at you for a bit longer, but I want to fuck you more," Grant tells him, is rewarded with a hissed-in breath.

Grant smiles against Frank's cheek and lifts up onto his knees so he can look down at the two of them.

"Grant." Gerard looks up at him beseechingly. Grant runs a hand through his hair, leaves it tangled in the hair on the back of Gerard's head and leans down to kiss him long and slow. When he pulls back, for the umpteenth time since they started this, Grant feels ridiculously touched that they've invited him into their lives.

"Gerard, kiss him, touch him. I want to watch," Grant breathes.

Usually when Grant tells Frank and Gerard that he wants to watch, he gets a show. He thinks it's probably a sign of how desperate Gerard is right now, how he just makes a throaty little sound and scrambles directly for Frank's mouth. He's got his hands wrapped around Frank's head and their mouths crushed together in seconds. Grant runs a hand down Gerard's bare back from shoulder blades to the small of his back and Gerard shudders and whines; he arches back into the touch even as his own hands trace down across Frank's shoulders and chest.

Gerard's mouth follows; he stops and swirls his tongue around Frank's left nipple, blowing over the wet skin and then sucking it into his mouth. Frank swears, hips lifting helplessly - uselessly. "Fuck, fuck, Gerard."

"Mmm?" Gerard hums against the skin. He's tracing the lines of Frank's chest piece again, shifting slowly down Frank's body. Grant keeps one hand on the small of Gerard's back and runs the fingers of the other up and down Frank's thigh. Frank lets his legs fall open. The skin there is silky, warm, and Grant's fingers trace along the crease of Frank's thigh just as Gerard pulls back, shifts a little, and takes Frank's cock in his mouth.

Frank thrusts up into Gerard's mouth with a moan. Grant shifts, running his hand back up Gerard's back and through his hair, then moves his hands to Frank's shoulders, chest, and arms. Grant can feel Frank's arms trembling beneath his fingers. He's doing so well, though, trying so hard. He's not straining against the ties, not even with Gerard working his way up and down Frank's cock; just lying there and trusting them, trusting Grant. Grant puts his hand in Frank's again and Frank immediately clings back. Grant reaches a hand out and puts it in Gerard's hair and holds on.

"Do you want me to hold him here while you fuck his mouth? Do you want me to fuck him while you watch, before I fuck you? Tell me what you want, Frankie," Grant whispers into Frank's ear.

"Fuck him for me," Frank gasps. And Grant's dick fucking _jumps_. His fingers in Gerard's hair tighten, and Gerard pulls off of Frank's cock, watching Grant avidly.

Grant quirks an eyebrow at him, then rolls away and opens the night stand. He’s not ashamed to admit that he can’t make it through this without help. He grabs the cock ring and rolls back. Gerard is still staring at him and bites his lip when he sees what’s in Grant’s hand. He looks over to Frank; Frank’s mouth is hanging open and he’s panting. With some difficulty, Grant turns his attention to the strap of leather in his hand. He carefully positions it and snaps it tight. He can’t hold in the noise that escapes his throat at that moment. Frank sucks in a deep breath, almost a gasp. Gerard moans outright.

“Gerard,” Grant says. Gerard looks at him. “While I fuck you, get Frank ready. With your tongue.” This time it’s Frank who moans. Grant’s words echo around in his head and he remembers the first time he gave that order to Gerard. He had no idea, barring some pretty wild hopes, that they would ever actually get where they are right now. Grant hands Gerard a bottle of lube and adds, “Feel free to use your fingers as well.”

Gerard takes the bottle from Grant and shifts until he's kneeling between Frank's legs. "Frankie," he whispers, running his hands up Frank's calves, pushing until Frank has one leg splayed wide, the other hooked over Gerard's shoulder.

"Your mouth," Frank tells him throatily as Gerard leans down and makes his first tentative press with fingers and tongue. "Fuck! I would do - so many illegal and immoral things...for your mouth...."

Gerard just keeps going, and Grant is torn between a chuckle and a moan. Frank's eyes travel from Gerard's downturned head to Grant's face. He licks his lips, sucks in a breath, and Grant nods, mostly to himself. He pushes himself off the mattress and circles to the foot of the bed, behind where Gerard is kneeling, setting one knee on the mattress by Gerard's calf. He has to lean over Gerard to grab the bottle of lube back, and when Gerard feels Grant's torso press up against his back he groans deep in his throat and pushes back into him.

"Getting there," Grant murmurs, sliding two slicked fingers inside him. Gerard, in this mood, probably won't put up with more than the minimum amount of stretching necessary and Grant quite frankly doesn't want to wait either.

Frank's still watching, eyes dark and intent, and he must be able to read it on Grant's face, because he says, "Do it, Grant. He can take it, he wants it." He gasps it, really, and Grant's free hand tightens on Gerard's hip.

"Gerard, love -"

"Please," Gerard begs, pulling back a bit and pressing a kiss against Frank's thigh even as his hand continues to move.

Grant takes a deep breath, reaches for the lube again, and slicks himself up before steadying Gerard's hips with his hands and sinking in. His entire body jerks at the first moment of contact, but soon he's pushing in, one slow movement unbroken by anything but his own need to stop and breathe.

He makes a few experimental thrusts before finding the angle that brings him in contact with Gerard's prostate, and as Gerard bucks and gasps under him he grasps more firmly onto Gerard's hips and focuses his thrusts on that one spot, firm and smooth and unceasing. Gerard has his face pressed against Frank's inner thigh now, and he's moaning into the skin.

Grant feels like he could explode - will explode, at the end of this - but fuck if it doesn't feel _so good_. Unimaginable. Gerard is falling apart underneath him, making the most beautiful needy noises and falling forward. He's scattering sloppy kisses all across Frank's belly and thighs while Frank stares into Grant's eyes. The tendons of Frank's arms are standing out against skin and ink as he strains to hold himself steady.

Grant folds himself down over Gerard's back, biting at the side of his neck and snapping his hips forward, hard, harder, reaching for Gerard's cock and it's finally enough. Grant pulls out just before Gerard comes, strokes him through it and kisses the love bite he's left on Gerard's neck. He can feel Gerard panting under him and he sits up, tugs Gerard up to his knees and mouths at the slope of his shoulder until Gerard twists to kiss Grant on the mouth.

They kiss until Frank moans below them, and Grant notices that Gerard’s fingers are still moving inside Frank. It’s slow and absent-minded, but the movement is there and it’s clearly making Frank lose his mind.

“Please,” Frank begs and Gerard realizes what he’s doing and stops, but that just makes Frank moan again.

Grant leans back onto his heels and lets Gerard get out from between them. Gerard situates himself along Frank’s side, his head on Frank’s shoulder. Grant sees Frank's arms twitch, clearly wanting to hold onto Gerard. They don't move further, though. He doesn’t struggle at all.

"You are so good, Frank. So very good," Grant praises.

Frank meets Grant's eyes for a split second before Frank’s slip closed and he moans "please" again. Grant slicks himself up again, puts Frank's legs over his shoulders, and pushes in slowly. Frank breathes hard, every breath almost a gasp. Grant knows how he feels. Frank still doesn't strain against the ropes.

"Fuck, Frank," Grant moans.

Gerard runs a hand across Frank's chest and shoulders, murmuring praise into his ear. "You're doing so good and he's gonna start moving in a second and make you feel fucking amazing, Frankie."

Grant leans down, bracing himself over the two of them so he can kiss Frank, then Gerard, then back to Frank, running a hand over Frank's shorn head. He pulls back and slowly draws out and then thrusts back in. Frank whimpers, so Grant keeps up the same pace. Grant suddenly finds that _he_ would very much like Frank's arms around him, but watching him laid out helpless on the bed is incredible. Grant reaches down to wrap his hand around Frank's cock and Frank thrusts back as hard as he can without his arms to help. Grant doesn't move his hand much, just lets their thrusting naturally push Frank's cock into his hand. But that's more than enough. Frank rolls his head back and forth and Gerard stops him with a hand on the cheek and a kiss.

Finally, Grant can't take it anymore. Each thrust is like exquisite torture and he reaches down to unsnap the cock ring before putting his hand right back on Frank's cock. With just a few hard thrusts, Frank is coming in his hand and he's coming hard inside Frank. He'd like to stay there forever, but instead he pulls out and reaches over and unties Frank's right arm, then his left.

Frank's arms are immediately around him, holding him in place with all the strength he can muster, breathing heavy in Grant’s ear. Grant settles more comfortably on top of him for a moment, lets him cling, and clings back. He feels Gerard's hands roaming everywhere, his lips dropping kisses on every part of both of them he can reach.

"You were wonderful, darling," Grant whispers into Frank's ear before rolling them over so Frank is lying half on top of him. Frank’s arms must be sore. Grant gently massages the tips of his fingers over the strained muscles, the marks around his wrists. Gerard shifts and curls up around them, running his hands up and down Frank's arms and over his head.

"I want to try again, sometime," Gerard murmurs, kissing Grant's brow. "With the blindfold. I just... _couldn't_ tonight."

"Anything you want, love. You were perfect tonight," Grant responds.

"No, I wasn't, I couldn't—

Grant interrupts him, "That's not the point. What you said about Frank - that's the point. So you were perfect."

Gerard is silent for a moment and then says, "I do want to try again. I can tell you how I feel about you."

"I already know," Grant says quietly. Gerard bites his lip; Grant reaches up and gently runs his thumb over Gerard's mouth until he releases his lip with a kiss to Grant's thumb. "You," Grant says, looking down at Frank, "were so good. I could see how hard you worked to keep from straining against the ropes."

"I love you," is all Frank says. "I love you both."

"Frankie, you," Gerard starts and then pauses. Grant tugs at his hand and Gerard scoots down, resting his head on Frank's shoulder. "You were so amazing. You always are." He lifts back up again, runs a hand over Frank's head, and kisses him. Grant just watches contentedly.

Eventually, they all doze off, but then Frank jerks awake. "Oh!"

"What is it," Grant starts, and then looks at the clock. "Oh! You're going to be on television soon." He pulls away from the entwined lump of Frank-and-Gerard and rummages for the remote control for his little-used bedroom television. Frank groans. Gerard has a little smirk on his face. "I can't wait to watch," Grant says.

"So you've said," Gerard snarks. Grant smiles and tugs on a lock of Gerard's hair until Gerard leans up against his chest. Frank rearranges himself so his head's in Grant's lap and Grant flicks to the correct channel. They watch the opening monologue. Everyone chuckles in the appropriate places, even though Frank and Gerard have already heard all this. They watch the interview with Cameron Diaz ("She was nice," Gerard says and Frank retorts with "By which you mean she was kind of scary!" "People can be nice and scary at the same time!") and then some young man none of them know or remember ("He was _actually_ nice. And he knew who we were").

And then Conan is introducing them. Grant feels a thrill when they're finally on screen. Mikey is looking cool as ice, though Grant knows he was probably quite nervous. Ray appears to be his typical, focused self. And god, Frank and Gerard. They're so fucking beautiful. Frank in his newly-cut hair and his skinny tie. And Gerard looking so intent and earnest. And then it's over.

"You were wonderful. I'd like nothing better than to fuck you both again," Grant informs them.

Frank giggles from where he has his face buried in Grant's lap. Grant reaches out and strokes his hand across Frank's head.

“How does tomorrow sound? We’ll pencil you in,” Gerard says, and turns to kiss Grant’s chest.

Grant laughs and runs his other hand through Gerard’s hair. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

 

***

 

They leave in two days and Frank can't stop fidgeting and pacing. Gerard is out with Mikey, Grant is in his office working, and it's just Frank and the dogs and the cats. The cats and Mama are ignoring him, but Sinatra seems to be feeding off his nervous energy, so he forces himself to sit the fuck down. He tries reading, but nothing on his Kindle looks appealing and he knows better than to go look for books to download in this mood or he'll just buy a bunch and not actually read them.

He can't help the sigh of relief that escapes him when he hears Grant's office door open and sees him emerge from the hall.

"Hi." Frank hops up from the couch and walks toward Grant, who smiles at him.

"Hello, darling. Have tea with me? I'm taking a break."

"That sounds great," Frank says and follows Grant into the kitchen. Frank watches him make tea and they chat and Frank manages to calm down a little bit, but then they head out to the living room and sit and suddenly Frank is feeling restless again. Almost like he needs a cigarette, but different. He finishes off his tea and curls up against Grant's side. Grant wraps an arm around him and it's nice. Great, really. But he can't sit still for long and soon is sitting up again, arranging the stack of books on the coffee table for what feels like the millionth time today.

Grant puts a hand on his arm. "What's wrong, Frank?"

"I can't - we're _leaving_ ," Frank whines. "For a long time. And there's so much to do."

"I don't think organizing my coffee table is one of those things," Grant says. "You two seem practically packed already, it won't take long to close up your house, and the dogs are already here. You need to relax." Grant shoots him a knowing look. "How can I help you relax, Frank?"

He's teasing, Frank can tell. "You know how," Frank says, leaning back up against Grant and looking up at him with a wicked little grin.

Grant hums. "Mmm, lest you forget, I've seen you start cleaning as soon as you're done cuddling, Frank." A smile is slowly blooming on his face, and Frank gets a bit of a flutter in his stomach just watching it. "You need to broaden your mind, Frank." Grant stands up, crosses the room to dig in a drawer. When he turns around and Frank sees what he's holding, he wants to gape, laugh, and moan a bit, all at the same time.

He settles on laughing a little breathlessly. "You're a genius. Why haven't we done this before?"

Grant walks over and sits back down next to Frank, placing the pipe and the baggie on the table. "Because you never asked. And while Gerard and I have discussed that he doesn't have a problem being around various substances or alcohol now, you rarely have anything in your house except for a bottle or two of wine for when guests come over, so it didn't seem...shall we say, prudent to bring it out?"

Frank can't help but lean forward and kiss Grant. "It's just become habit, really. Those were some of the worst days of my life. He doesn't.... One time I got mad at him for trying to take some NyQuil when he was sick. It's...it was really hard, and I'm not worried like that anymore, but I suppose it's not a bad habit to be in." Frank shrugs and smiles. "He knows he doesn't need that anymore to be himself. He's so fucking _happy_. I'm so fucking proud of him and how far he's come."

Grant places a hand on Frank's neck, runs his thumb along his jaw. "You've come rather far yourself." Frank runs a hand over his head and shrugs again. Sometimes he's not sure he has.

"We have a lot to be happy about," Frank says softly, after thinking his last statement through. He stops and puffs out his cheeks in an exhale. "Wow, okay. You're right, I do need to relax."

Grant just tilts his head and smirks and says, "As I said. I can help you out with that."

Frank smiles at him. It's just a simple pipeful of weed, so tame; he knows it's tame, it's barely anything compared to what he used to get up to in the good old - or the _bad_ old - days, and it's sure as shit tame compared to some of the things Grant has done. But Frank gestures for him to go ahead. Grant gets everything ready, and Frank enjoys just watching his hands moving swift and sure, because Grant has gorgeous hands. When Grant's ready he hands Frank the pipe and a lighter. They pass the pipe back and forth for a while and Frank exhales a cloud of scented smoke and says, "Goddamn, seriously. This is awesome." He feels amazing.

They don't talk much at first, and it's fine, it feels great to just sit slumped into Grant's fucking comfortable couch - a giant couch, seriously, and Frank loves it, he loves Grant, but he loves the floor too. He slides to the carpet, grinning up at Grant and stretching with his arms and legs all at once. Grant decides to join him, pushing the coffee table right aside like he owns the place - "You own the place," Frank tells Grant, and Grant laughs.

"I do." He props himself on an elbow and leans down, nuzzling at Frank's neck and nibbling along his collar. When his lips reach Frank's they're kissing each other in slow motion and it's fucking fantastic. Frank moans into Grant's mouth and nips at Grant's bottom lip. He knows Grant likes the feeling, the tiny sharp points of pleasure-pain, and finally he rolls Grant over onto his back and sets to work on what Frank’s sure will be an epic hickey.

Grant tips his head to the side, wraps his arms around Frank's waist, and lets Frank do as he pleases. He loves the feel of Grant's stubble under his lips, the taste of his skin, the little noises he's making. And then he starts talking and pulls Frank's hips flush with his.

"Do you have any idea how fucking good your mouth feels?" Grant murmurs in his ear. "How many ways and places I want that mouth?" Frank moans and reflexively grinds his hips down. Grant keeps talking, but Frank can't focus on the exact words anymore so he just listens to the sound of Grant's voice. He runs his teeth along the column of Grant's throat and draws out a moan. He smirks against Grant's skin and then goes back to sucking at Grant's neck. He pulls down the collar of Grant's t-shirt and sucks on his clavicles. Grant keeps talking and maneuvering Frank's hips with his hands. Each movement sends a wave of sensation through Frank's whole body. Everything is tingling.

"Fuck," Frank breathes, swiping his tongue against the spot on Grant's neck where color is blooming bright red. "Fuck, I need you to fuck me."

Frank barely gets the words out before he finds himself being pulled up and bent over the couch cushions. Grant is unbuttoning Frank's pants from behind and pushing them down his thighs.

"I fucking appreciate how infrequently you wear underwear," Grant says, and reaches around to give Frank's cock a couple of good pulls before disappearing. From _somewhere_ close by, he produces a small bottle of lube.

Frank cracks up. "Is that from the other day?" he asks between giggles.

"From when Gerard fucked you against the door while I fucked him? Yes." Grant sounds smug. He stops talking and pushes a finger inside Frank.

Frank stops laughing after a while and just moans. Grant's hands, fuck. It's maybe lacking in Grant's usual finesse, but goddamn, it's good. Frank kind of never wants it to stop. He rubs his cheek mindlessly against the couch cushions. "Your fingers. God. Oh, fuck, harder. Please...."

Grant ignores him, gentling the strokes to nearly nothing, nudging Frank's tee shirt out of the way with his mouth and licking across Frank's lower back. When he pulls his fingers out entirely, Frank scrabbles at the cushions to push his torso up and back, but all Grant's doing is lining his cock up and pushing in, a little rough, not slow, hard and perfect. He folds himself down over Frank's back, pressing him back against the couch, rocking his hips into Frank's.

Fuck, Frank can't even breathe. Grant is biting at his ears and _still_ whispering dirty, dirty things, and Frank's cock is just fucking rubbing against the couch and it's not quite enough to get him off by itself but it's still making his skin sizzle and crawl. Grant, meanwhile, is huge and hitting the exact right angle inside him, and by the time Grant comes Frank can't even make words any more to beg, but Grant just sits back on his heels and tugs Frank up against his chest and strokes him off until he's coming too.

They both collapse against the couch cushions and rest together like that for a while. Grant pulls out and tugs Frank into his lap, and Frank leans against the front of the couch and puts his head on Grant's shoulder and thinks about maybe not moving, like, ever again.

Then he gets hungry. "Grant," he says suddenly, urgently. "I'm _hungry_."

Grant doesn't even answer for a moment, then he lets loose a stream of lazy chuckles. "Why are you telling _me_?"

"If you loved me," Frank tells him, "you'd feed me."

Grant just laughs again, and Frank goes to hit him on the shoulder but gets distracted by the hickey he left. It's really fucking big. Grant hisses a little when he presses on it, and Frank says, "It's pretty."

"Twisted," Grant murmurs. He sounds vaguely admiring.

Frank lays his head back on Grant's shoulder. "I'm still hungry."

Then a key scrapes in the front door lock and Gerard walks in through the entryway.

Gerard pauses, key still in the door, and sniffs, looking at Frank and Grant for a long moment. And then he starts laughing so hard he has to bend over. Frank's kind of afraid he's going to hurt himself. He manages to get the door closed behind him and collapses against it, clutching his stomach. Frank scrambles up and goes over to him, tugging him toward the couch.

"Gee." Frank pulls him down and Grant catches him half in his lap and Frank scoots closer. "Gee," he repeats for good measure.

Gerard is still giggling, leaning against Grant's side. "How is this simultaneously so hilarious and hot?"

Frank leans in close, his nose almost touching Gerard's. "Because we were fucking five minutes ago."

Gerard lets out a noise that's half laugh, half squeak. It makes Frank start giggling again, so he leans against Gerard until he stops. It takes a while.

"Gee, I’m hungry," Frank says after a few minutes.

"Oh my _god_. How are you the biggest cliche ever?" Gerard asks incredulously.

"You fucking love me," Frank responds and pulls back to look at Gerard. Grant winks at him over Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard maintains a straight face for all of ten seconds before he smiles and leans forward to kiss Frank. "Yes, I really do." And then he starts getting up.

"Wait, where are you going?" Frank asks, grabbing onto Gerard's hand so he can’t get far.

Gerard rolls his eyes. "To make you two stoners sandwiches, duh."

Frank beams at him. "I love you."

"As do I," Grant adds.

Gerard sighs and rolls his eyes in that overdramatic way of his that means he's trying to look disaffected. Mikey's way better at it than Gerard. But Gerard is actually getting up and going into the kitchen and making sandwiches, so score one for Frank. Or Grant. Or weed. Frank struggles back to his feet and makes a half-hearted attempt to re-button his jeans where he'd tugged them back over his hips when he went to greet Gerard. Halfway through the fly, he gives up and lets them hang. Whatever, it's not like Grant and Gerard care.

Grant's managed to straighten his own clothes and is sitting at one end of the couch. Frank sprawls along the length of the unoccupied cushions, and when Gerard sits a plate on his stomach, he attempts to eat the sandwich lying down, to partial success. He shoots a look at Grant, but Grant's not paying attention to Frank's mess. He has tugged Gerard down into his lap, plate and all, and is eating his own sandwich.

"Where's yours?" Frank asks Gerard when he manages to clean the last of the bits of tomato off his face.

"Oh, I ate at Mikey's," Gerard says. He's busy channel-surfing. He leaves the TV on a channel where some old western is about halfway over. They've seen it before, but Frank forgets the name. He's not really paying attention, though, because Grant just has just set his plate down on the end table and is tugging the collar of Gerard's jacket aside to kiss his neck. Gerard squirms. "That tickles," he breathes. He looks over at Frank just as Frank is trying to set the plate down on the floor. "You're a mess, aren't you, baby?"

"Gonna mess you up too," Frank teases him, pushing himself up on his knees so he can reach them.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Definitely," Grant murmurs. He meets Frank's eyes again and Frank grins. Grant tugs Gerard's jacket down his arms as Frank leans in to suck at the base of his throat

Gerard sucks in a deep breath and Frank bites lightly at the tendons in his neck. "Gonna make you match," he whispers into Gerard's skin before going back to sucking. He keeps going until Gerard is gasping and writhing under him, and then moves down, shoving Gerard's shirt up his chest. Frank mouths Gerard's nipples, grazing them with his teeth. He doesn't stay there long, though. His hands are already fumbling at Gerard's fly. He gets Gerard's cock out and immediately goes down as far as he can. Gerard's moan is muffled and Frank looks up to see Grant's tongue in Gerard’s mouth. Frank moves his tongue along the underside of Gerard's cock, then pulls back and sucks at the head. He runs his hands up Gerard's sides and Grant starts talking.

He tells Gerard exactly what he did to Frank earlier. Describes fingering Frank, fucking him hard over the couch. All the while, Frank keeps sucking and licking Gerard's cock. Gerard's hips twitch; Frank pulls back and grins.

"C'mon, Gee," he murmurs and swallows Gerard down. Everything else kind of fades away, everything is whooshing and all Frank feels is Gerard's cock in his mouth and then the hand on his head. Gerard's hips start moving in earnest and Frank moves with his thrusts. It's not long before he's coming down Frank's throat. Frank swallows and pulls off, panting; he stares up at Gerard's face, how he's pressing his cheek into Grant's shoulder and biting his lip. “God, Gerard.” He knows his voice is a little impressed, but honestly sometimes it’s hard to believe how gorgeous Gerard is.

“Frankie,” Gerard answers, eyes still closed. “Your fuckin’mouth.” He sounds extremely relaxed, and Frank sighs.

“I feel way more relaxed now too,” he says, curling up by Grant’s hip.

“You okay?” Gerard asks, tracing over one of Frank’s eyebrows with a fingertip.

“I - yeah. Yeah,” Frank repeats. He looks up at Gerard, and Gerard is looking right back at him. They share a look for a second. Gerard knows exactly why Frank’s on edge, after all. Was on edge. He feels fine right now - more than fine. Sleepy. "'M just gonna close my eyes now.”

He feels the couch shift as Gerard slips off of Grant’s lap. Then hands are tugging him until his head is pillowed on Gerard’s thigh and a hand settles onto Frank’s head. He falls asleep to the sounds of gunfire from the TV and the feel of fingers stroking his head.

 

*

 

Finally, it’s the day before they fly out. Frank can’t believe it’s here. He and Gerard spend the morning at their house, making sure it’s ready to stand empty for a while. Frank packs a bagful of forgotten dog toys. Gerard makes him put about half of them back. They check with their neighbors about keeping an eye on things, with the lawn service about their yard, with the post office about their mail. Finally they bring the rest of their tour stuff back to Grant's, all packed. That doesn’t mean they’re done, though. Both Frank and Gerard spend a good hour going room by room and picking up things that they've already got with them there. Grant's pretending to read, but he’s pretty clearly watching them. He looks almost wistful.

It’s never been so clear to Frank how much they've really sort of spread out and made themselves at home. There's a lot of stuff everywhere, and some of it is things they'll need to take with them, but not all of it. Gerard's his typical disorganized self, and Frank's mostly helping him after a while. He doesn’t notice at first, but the book Grant’s flipping through is one of Gerard's sketchbooks, and when he sees Frank watching he holds it out, but he doesn't really look like he wants to give it up.

Frank doesn't take the book, but sits down next to Grant on the couch. Once he's sitting next to Grant, he flicks a look up at Gerard - Gerard will know what he's saying. Then he tugs gently at the covers of the sketchbook and lifts it from Grant's hand, replacing it with his own hand. He puts his head on Grant's shoulder, tipping his face up to kiss the soft underside of Grant's jaw. Grant's fingers squeeze Frank's and he leans into Frank's kisses.

Gerard sits on the coffee table in front of them, puts a hand on Grant's knee, and tangles his other hand with theirs. "We don't want to leave," Gerard says, and Frank feels Grant's chuckle rumble through his throat.

"Liar," Grant says. "Doing this is what you love."

"It's not the only thing we love," Gerard answers.

Frank nuzzles Grant’s neck. "We don't want to leave _you_. It's going to be forever."

Grant brings his hand up and runs it over Frank's head. "I'll be in Glasgow."

"That's only two days out of two months. Not enough," Frank whispers.

"Writing is a solitary profession; I'm quite accustomed to being alone," Grant says, clearly trying for a light tone. He doesn't completely pull it off.

Frank meets Gerard's eyes again and Gerard nods. Frank takes a deep breath. "That's what we want you to remember," he answers softly. "You're never alone." He pulls back to look Grant in the eyes, and Grant smiles, leans in to brush a kiss across his cheek.

"I know that," Grant says.

"No," Gerard chimes in emphatically, and they both turn to face him. "We want you to _know_ that." He's holding something in his hand - the small box that had been waiting at their house this morning with the rest of their mail.

Frank starts the explanation. "Four years ago when we were still at the Paramour writing Parade, we left the house one day because we needed a fucking break and we wanted to go see Mikey. We ended up at the mall and we met some fans and escaped into a fucking Zales after a few minutes of taking pictures and signing autographs."

Gerard continues, "And I saw these rings, right? And I couldn't stop staring at them. And then we just…bought them. We didn't really talk about it, it just sort of happened."

Frank picks the story back up. "So we went to the car and we sat there for a while and then exchanged rings, and then I realized we'd basically just gotten married in a mall parking lot. Which was probably appropriate." They've never told Grant this story. They've never really told anyone this story, outside of their family. Frank's lips twist, and he adds, "Not very romantic, is it?"

"I -" Grant starts. He stops speaking, just keeps staring fixedly at Gerard's outstretched hand. Frank's not used to a speechless Grant.

“A few weeks ago after practice, Frank asked me what my ring means to me,” Gerard says. “About halfway through my answer, I realized why he was asking.”

Frank jumps in, “It made the two of us separate from you. And that’s not...it’s not _true_. You're as big a part of me as Gerard is. A different, newer part, but just as big and just as important."

"And you’re an irreplaceable part of me. Of us. Take it," Gerard says softly, "if you want it."

Grant reaches out for the little black box. "If I - if...."

"Maybe it's fast, but we both know what we want," Frank says and then he can't seem to breathe anymore; all he can do is look at Grant, whose eyes are still fixed on the box in his hand. He flips the top open with his thumb and looks at the ring there and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"I find," Grant says as he removes it from the little velvet bed, "that I have never wanted anything so much in all my life."

“It matches," Frank says, closing the fingers of his left hand around Grant's left wrist to show Grant his own band. "We had to track down the designer online. It took a long time; we didn't think it would get here soon enough for -"

"We had to have it," Gerard finishes. "You had to have it. We - " He takes the box away and plucks the ring from between Grant's fingers. Frank's still holding Grant's wrist, and Gerard slips the ring down over Grant's ring finger. Grant sighs, and Gerard leans forward to kiss Grant's fingers, then Frank's. Then Grant's mouth, where he whispers, "We had to have you."

"You do, always," Grant whispers back and their lips press together. When they pull back, Gerard slides off the table and into Grant's lap, resting his forehead against Grant's.

Frank shifts and gets on his knees facing them. "We love you so much," Frank says, "and you're part of us. And now wherever we are, you'll have something to remind you."

Without pulling away from Gerard, Grant reaches out to cup Frank's cheek in his hand. Frank can feel the cool slide of metal against his skin as he turns his head to kiss Grant's palm.

Grant smiles at Frank and runs his thumb over Frank's lips. "I shouldn't think I'll need reminding of the two people who are always in my thoughts.” He leans in to kiss Frank, taking his time about it. “Always,” he repeats.

No one says anything for a moment; Frank just sits quietly and lets Grant look at him, which he does at length, eyes only drifting away to land on Gerard, then returning every time. Finally Grant sits back and nods. “Wearing your ring...." Grant sounds like he's having a ring-related epiphany. "Perhaps it will also help keep me from getting too caught up in things. Like you're still here with me."

"Does that mean you'll take care of yourself while we're gone?" Frank asks.

"I think it will help," Grant says, and his face is totally open and honest.

“Good." Gerard says and leans forward, kissing Grant again. "But just remember," he murmurs. "It means we love you, too."

Grant pulls Gerard forward until his cheek is pillowed against Grant's shoulder. Frank, on the other side, gives Grant a final, gentle kiss and curls back into his chest. Finishing the packing can wait for a while.

 

*

 

Frank tries to calculate the time difference between Osaka and L.A. in his head for five minutes before he remembers that he has a phone that will do it for him. His phone tells him it's just after eleven at home and while that's probably a little too late to be calling, he figures Grant may still be up or he'll ignore the phone if he's working. Frank dials and waits for what feels like an eternity for the call to connect and then another eternity while it rings. He's waiting for Grant's voicemail to pick up when he's surprised by Grant's sleepy voice greeting him.

"'Lo?"

"Hi. Did I wake you?"

"Not as such, no," Grant answers.

"So you mean yes."

Grant chuckles warm and low, "I mean I'm in bed and was dozing off over a book I'm supposed to be writing an introduction for."

"I dunno, call me crazy, but isn't falling asleep over something you're supposed to be like, _selling_ people on a bad sign?"

"Or, I am just that tired," Grant says with another laugh. "But someone I love very much has been insisting that I take better care of myself, so once we are done here, I shall put it aside until tomorrow."

Frank's whole chest squeezes. "Good."

"How have your first two days in Japan been?" Grant asks.

"Good. It's Japan. Being here is always a little more surreal than any other place on earth. But in a good way. The other guys are off doing some, I don't know, food eating thing. It didn't seem like something I could really participate in, so I decided to stay at the hotel and decompress a little bit," Frank explains.

"I'm glad your version of decompression involves calling me," Grant says softly.

"I miss you." Frank sighs. "I mean, I knew I would, but I didn't... It's only been two days and I miss you so much my stomach kind of hurts. And I miss my dogs, and that fucking cat." Frank knows he sounds cranky, but he can't help it.

"Frank." Grant's voice sounds kind of thick. "I miss you so much. Sinatra and Mama are fine, but I know they miss you too. And so does Johnny. He's wandering around looking quite forlorn."

"I should probably let you go to sleep. They should be back pretty soon."

"I would happily speak with you for the rest of the night, but I think both of us probably need all the sleep we can get."

"Yeah," Frank sighs. "Love you."

"I love you too. Give Gerard my love, and goodnight, well, good afternoon, darling." Grant says. Frank keeps the phone pressed to his ear until the line is completely dead and waits for Gerard to get back.

“I’m so sorry,” are the first words that come out of Gerard’s mouth when he bursts through the door. “That took forever.”

“How was it?” Frank asks, setting his Kindle aside. After talking to Grant, he was actually relaxed enough to read for a while.

“Um, surprisingly good? I have no idea what I ate, don’t even ask me.”

“Well, you’re really selling _that_ ,” Frank teases. Gerard rolls his eyes, but he comes over and drapes himself over Frank and they burn a few pleasurable minutes kissing each other, Frank industriously exploring under the hems and straps of Gerard's clothing with his fingertips.

“I almost forgot,” Gerard says after a moment, wriggling out of his backpack and pulling out a bag. “Bento! Vegetarian! I thought you would be hungry.”

“Fuck, you’re my fucking favorite,” Frank breathes, pulling the box out of the tote and popping the lid. He moans appreciatively at the food arranged inside. When he looks up, Gerard is beaming at him and he smiles back. Gerard wiggles a pair of chopsticks and Frank takes them gratefully. Frank thinks Gerard’s expecting him to move over to the desk, but he stays on the bed, tugging Gerard down to sit next to him, and he demolishes a good portion of the box in not much time. Eventually he slows down, and he starts feeding Gerard morsels instead. Gerard surprisingly doesn’t talk, he just keeps his eyes on Frank and closes his lips gently around the chopsticks when they’re offered to him.

He does it enough times in a row that Frank stops watching the contents of the bento box and starts watching Gerard’s lips instead. “Gee,” he says softly, a little pleading.

“What did you do this afternoon?” Gerard says calmly.

“Read,” Frank tells him, breathing in through his nose to get himself under control. “Talked to Grant on the phone.”

It’s Gerard’s turn to breathe in. “I missed Grant?” His eyes turn a little sad.

“I...yeah,” Frank says. “I called him.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He sounded okay. He said he misses us. Sends his love.” Gerard’s mouth quirks a little in a smile, and Frank smiles back. “I bet he wouldn’t mind knowing I gave you a little extra special attention,” Frank drawls, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Like I'd turn that down," Gerard answers, reaching for Frank immediately. Frank evades his hands, and Gerard makes a pouty face. Frank quickly scoops up the bento box leftovers and transfers them to safety on the nightstand, then turns back to Gerard, sitting up on his heels and studying him intently. " _Frank_ ," Gerard adds insistently.

"Hush," Frank replies firmly. "Me -" he struggles with Gerard's jacket, batting away Gerard's hands when they go for Frank's clothing, "giving you -" Gerard starts to get the picture and switches his focus to his own clothing instead, "attention. Is what I said," Frank finishes in a near-whisper. They've finally managed to remove all of Gerard's remaining clothing, and Frank runs a gentle hand up Gerard's bare shin, eyes roaming over his body. "Are you going to let me?"

"Yeah - yes, yeah," Gerard answers, half-squeaking and babbling a bit as Frank's hand trails along Gerard's inner thigh. Maybe it's unfair to tease, but it's there, gorgeous pale skin that he has to touch.

"Good," Frank murmurs. He's only wearing a tee shirt and a pair of jeans himself, hoodie shucked off a little while after an unfortunate sushi incident. He should have known better than to let Gerard feed _him_ with the chopsticks. The tee shirt is clean, but he strips it off anyway, enjoying the way Gerard's eyes track up and down his arms and stomach. He reaches out, and Gerard's eyes follow the movement of his hand instead, practically crossing when his mouth is the first thing Frank's fingers touch. Frank lets his pointer and middle fingers dent the center of Gerard's bottom lip, then shuffles up the mattress to let his lips replace his fingers.

Gerard makes a quiet noise into the kiss, settling farther back into the bed pillows. Frank lets his mouth roam from Gerard's lips to his ear, down along his neck and back up to bite at his jaw, then he says, "Grant isn't the only one who was missing someone today." He trails kisses down Gerard's chest, following the line of one collarbone, dipping down to taste a nipple. "I missed you too. Frontman, always in demand," Frank teases.

"Am I...in demand?" Gerard asks, breath hitching halfway through when Frank's mouth hits the hollow of his belly button.

"What do you think?" Frank laughs. Gerard fucking _knows_ the answer to that question. Frank licks across Gerard's hipbones, careful to avoid his dick, even when - especially when - Gerard's hips twitch and he lets out a little whine. He looks back up Gerard's body to meet his eyes. Gerard's gaze is dark and eagerly following Frank's every movement, every place Frank touches him. "Hand me a pillow," Frank murmurs. He has to repeat himself before Gerard hears him and complies, but Gerard immediately lifts his hips to help Frank prop them up. He runs a hand back up the inside of Gerard's leg, pushing his thigh back towards his body and letting Gerard's calf drape over his back. Frank spreads him open gently with his hands and noses back behind his balls, traces his tongue over the sensitive, puckered skin of his opening.

Gerard groans at the very first touch. "Fuck, Frankie, goddamnit, you know I -" _Go crazy when you do that_ is clearly the intended end of that sentence. And yeah, Frank does know. Was sort of counting on it, in fact. He continues teasing Gerard with his tongue, circling in an irregular rhythm of fast and slow, hard and soft licks, pressing in gently to feel the give of Gerard's body, and Gerard writhes under his hands, muttering swear words and praises alike.

Frank doesn't know how long he's been at it, just that there's a sort of white-noise buzz in his head broken up by Gerard's soft sounds. He's hard against the fly of his loose day-off jeans, dick rubbing mindlessly against the mattress with just enough friction to keep his own nerves humming. So when Gerard hauls in a deep breath and gasps, "Frankie, fingers!" he doesn't understand for a second.

He pulls back, pushing himself up from between Gerard's thighs to go fetch the lube. "Don't move," he warns Gerard, who chuckles a little.

"Not planning on it." Gerard pauses and then adds, "Take your pants off, wanna see you."

Frank hesitates at the foot of the bed, but shoves his jeans down anyway, climbing back up onto the mattress and popping the top of the bottle with one hand. He grips Gerard's thigh and reaches back between his legs, slowly pressing with one finger. Gerard opens for him easily, tossing his head back and forth as Frank starts up a rhythm, bearing down onto Frank's fingers. He's fucking gorgeous, sprawled naked and needy across the sheets.

"Fuck me," Gerard says. "Frank -" It's breathy, but it's still unmistakably an order, and Frank's lips twitch. He lets his fingers go still to hear his name trail off into a moan.

"Say please," Frank tells him throatily.

"Please, fuck, I need you," is the immediate response. Frank pulls his fingers out and reaches for the lube to slick himself up, watching Gerard's face as he lines up and pushes in. He's gorgeous, head thrown back to expose his throat, and Frank can't help shifting, resettling himself so that Gerard's legs wrap around his waist, leaning in to kiss the tender white skin. Gerard turns his head so that their mouths meet, and they kiss messily for a while until it gets to be too much, and then Frank pulls back to grip Gerard's hips and drive in harder. "Touch me," Gerard groans. "Jerk me off."

So Frank does. He closes one hand around the base of Gerard's dick, jacking him in time with Frank's thrusts. Soon Gerard is clutching at Frank's arms, blunt bitten nails digging into the skin of Frank's shoulders as he murmurs, "Yes fuck yes yes," over and over. When Frank finally comes, it is with a full-body shudder and a shout. His vision whites out, and by the time it returns Gerard is the one gasping something profane and shuddering against the sheets. Frank rides out the aftershocks with a whimper or two before pulling out and collapsing on the mattress by Gerard's side.

Neither of them moves for a while. They just breathe together. Finally Frank rolls off the bed and goes into the bathroom to clean up. He takes a cloth back out and gently takes care of Gerard. He's gorgeous all the time, but these moments just after coming when his hair is at its wildest and he's looking fucked out and a little sleepy, that's when Frank can hardly keep his eyes off Gerard for one second. He drapes himself over Gerard's chest and stares down at him. Gerard looks back, smiling when Frank reaches out and traces the lines of his face.

"We gotta be anywhere anytime soon?" Frank asks after a few minutes.

"We have an interview in — " Gerard leans over to look at the clock, "an hour. And a bunch of stuff the rest of the day."

Frank makes a face.

"Gotta pay the bills, baby. And we have a house to help buy soon." Gerard's smile blooms into a grin.

"Yeah, we do." Frank feels himself grin back.

"You really are excited about this, huh?" Gerard asks. Frank nods. "You _hate_ moving."

"I like you and Grant and the idea of us all living together more." Frank shrugs. Gerard's face goes all soft and sappy and Frank has to lean down to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Frankie," Gerard murmurs against his lips. Frank nuzzles his cheek and lays his head on Gerard's shoulder. They doze off, but Frank startles awake about fifteen minutes later.

"We should probably get ready to go," Frank says.

"Yeah," Gerard answers, but he doesn't move for a while. And when he does, it's to roll Frank over and start kissing him.

"We really," Frank gasps between kisses, "need to get ready."

"Yeah," Gerard repeats. He isn't moving, though. Finally, Frank wraps his arms around Gerard and rolls them to the edge of the bed.

"C'mon. Let's get this over with," Frank insists.

"It's not _all_ work, you know," Gerard says as he rolls onto the floor and then scrambles to his feet and grabs Frank's pants and holds them out to him. "There's a few hours there for us to wander around like tourists and for you to take pictures."

Frank sits up on the bed and reaches takes his pants from Gerard. "You're the best, you know that?" Gerard looks smug and Frank rolls his eyes. "Of course you do."

They get ready to go and the second they leave the door, Frank feels like they just don't stop for two days. They’re so busy that they don’t really have time to call Grant between filming the BBC thing and all the interviews they have to give and the timezones working against them the few times they _do_ have some downtime. He keeps an eye on his phone anyway, watching the hours roll by and getting more used to the time difference. Mostly so he'll know when it rolls over to the 31st, and Grant's birthday, in Los Angeles. When it happens, he drags Gerard to the nearest corner and they call. If nothing else, they can leave him a stupid message to wake up to.

They do that, then play a show a few hours later. By the time they're done, it's back to most definitely being the wrong time to call, so Frank frowns at his phone then curls up under the covers with Gerard. When they wake up the next morning, it's still the afternoon of Grant's birthday and they try calling again. They get no answer, so they try again a little while later. And again still later. Each time, the call goes directly into Grant's voicemail.

Frank tries not to get too worried or irrational about it. Grant doesn't _seem_ like the sort of person who hates his birthday so much that he'd refuse to even take calls from his, well, his _partners_ , and he didn't mention anything about big plans for the day, but who knows? Frank knows he's got another deadline looming pretty soon, so maybe he's just been working. But Gerard has that furrow in his forehead that means he's confused and maybe a little worried, too, so Frank knows he's not totally crazy.

At one point, Gerard gets a garbled message from him, but he breaks up so badly, they really don't have much idea what he says. Frank doesn't even bother counting it as hearing from Grant, though he does take it as proof of life.

Gerard is looking about as mopey about everything as Frank feels when they go to meet the guys for dinner that night. Frank supposes birthdays aren't a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but he'd have liked to at least give Grant some of what he gave Frank for _his_ birthday. Mikey walks into the restaurant typically late with one of their security crew. Except, no. That is definitely not Mehdi. Frank's stomach lurches.

"I thought you had a deadline," he hears Gerard say.

Grant smiles and shrugs, "I finished."

"I... we tried calling _all day_ ," Frank says stupidly.

Grant smiles again, running a hand over his head. "I was in an airplane for most of the last twenty-four hours. I apologize for not answering."

Frank suddenly stands up from his chair so fast he's pretty sure it would've fallen over if Pedicone hadn't grabbed onto it and covers the distance between himself and Grant in a few strides. He wraps his arms firmly around Grant's waist and buries his face in Grant's chest. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Grant runs his hands over Frank's head and then wraps his arms around him. "I missed you too. So very much." Frank can't do much more than squeeze Grant in his arms. He feels Gerard join them, feels his arms wrap around both of them, and sighs happily.

Grant starts talking again, voice low. “Vince called me quite early in the morning on my birthday. He’s never got the hang of timezones. Either that or he doesn’t much care if he’s disturbing my sleep. Either is equally likely.”

“What else are best friends for?” Frank asks with a grin against Grant’s collarbone.

“I’m getting to that,” Grant says. Frank can tell he’s smiling without having to see his face. “We discussed a great many things and he asked about the two of you. Naturally, I told him about getting a house soon, about the ring. He asked me when the honeymoon was. I replied that I didn’t know, since you were in Japan starting your full tour and I was on a deadline. And he said to me, ‘Grant, it’s your birthday and you essentially just got married to the loves of your life. Go to them, you stupid fuck.’ And so here I am.”

“Thank fuck for Vince,” Gerard whispers and Frank nods. He swallows a couple of times and takes a deep breath.

“Indeed,” Grant says with a kiss to the top of Frank’s head.

They stand there just holding each other until the guys start teasing. And even then Frank keeps clinging just to be a shit and make them wait. Finally Gerard releases them and then Frank pulls back, but laces his fingers with Grant's, runs his thumb along Grant’s ring, and pulls him toward the table. Everyone shuffles down so Grant can sit between him and Gerard. They get a little bit more teasing for being so lovesick that they can't even last a few days without each other, but Frank just laughs, flips them off, and kisses Grant again. Because he _can_. Because Grant is sitting there with them because he _flew to Japan_ to surprise them.

Apparently Mikey got Lauren and several other people in on this, because there's already a ticket for Grant for the Noh play they're all supposed to go to that evening. Frank's pretty sure the fact that they make it through dinner and then the play without just saying fuck it and going straight back to the hotel, or finding a convenient room with a lockable door and dragging Grant into it is some sort of miracle of self-restraint.

All three of them are sleepy by the time they finally leave for the hotel, though Grant is clearly feeling it more than they are. He nods off against Gerard's shoulder in the car on the way. Frank can't help but reach out and touch his cheek, and wonder how they got so damn lucky. Gerard meets his eyes in the dim light and Frank has to take a deep breath and bite his lip a little bit.

Frank thinks they may just have to sleep, save anything else for the next morning, but when they get into the room, Frank finds himself wrapped in Grant's arms. Frank clings until Grant pulls back and starts removing Frank's clothes slowly and methodically while Gerard works on Grant's. When they're naked, they move to Gerard. Frank pulls his jacket off and Grant carefully unbuckles his belt and slides his pants down his thighs. Frank appreciates the view of Gerard's ass he gets standing behind him. Frank sits on the foot of the bed and grabs hold of Gerard's hips and pulls.

"C'mere," he says, and Gerard sits down next to Frank and they both pull at Grant until he’s between them. They move up the bed slowly, each movement punctuated by kisses. Finally they're leaning against the pillows and Frank is kissing every inch of Grant he can reach. Frank doesn't realize he's talking, telling Grant all the ways he missed him and all the ways he loves him, until Grant starts responding. Gerard is doing the same on the other side and Grant's responses are getting more and more breathless. Gerard slides down and wraps his lips around Grant's cock. Frank tries to keep up with the kissing and touching, but Gerard looks seriously fucking fantastic sucking cock and Frank ends up resting his head on Grant's shoulder and watching.

Frank feels and hears each breath, each moan, each word Grant utters under his ear. The sounds are just as hot as what Gerard is doing to cause them. When Grant comes, his breath hitches and he moans long and low. Frank tightens his arm around Grant's waist and puts his mouth to Grant's. A gasp is surprised out of him when Gerard's mouth is suddenly on his cock next. Grant chuckles and smooths a hand down Frank's chest and back up. Frank has to close his eyes. He just can't keep them open anymore. There's too much sensation. Especially when he feels Gerard's fingers on his balls and stroking back; he knows it drives Frank crazy. Grant's hand is still moving over his chest and suddenly Frank just can't hold back anymore and comes down Gerard's throat.

"Gee," he gasps and reaches down to pull Gerard up. Frank rolls onto his back and tugs at Gerard until he's straddling Frank's belly. Frank reaches down and wraps a hand around Gerard's cock, stroking and pulling and running his thumb over the head over and over. Grant's hand joins him and they work together. Gerard throws his head back and Frank wishes he could reach to bite Gerard's neck, it looks so fucking gorgeous. Soon, Gerard is coming all over Frank's chest.

After, Gerard braces himself with his arms on either side of Frank’s shoulders, head hanging down until his hair brushes Frank’s collarbones. It tickles a bit, but Frank is too exhausted to move. Beside him, Grant’s breathing is already slowing, his still-sticky hand curled loosely on Frank’s stomach, but Frank still feels absurdly loved. And Gerard really loves Frank a lot too, because it’s Gerard who gets up, levering himself off the bed and going to the bathroom to get a washcloth, gently wiping Frank’s - and Grant’s - skin clean. “Best,” Frank murmurs, and Gerard laughs softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he whispers. “Go to sleep.”

Frank turns over and smushes his face against Grant’s bare shoulder. He feels Gerard slip into bed, spooning up behind him, and sighs happily before blinking his eyes closed.

*

 

Frank wakes up to the gentle sweep of fingertips across his forehead. He doesn't open his eyes right away, but he knows it's Grant. He murmurs, "You should still be sleeping, babe."

"I'd rather do this," Grant answers, and Frank blinks his eyes open in time to see Grant transfer his wandering fingers to Gerard's hair. Frank hums his approval and squirms up to lean against Grant's chest. It takes him a moment to bring back some of last night's conversation, but when he does he says curiously, happily, "Honeymoon?"

Grant chuckles. "According to Vince. We'll go away again, I hope, some time when none of us has to work. But -"

"This can be practice," Frank says with a little smirk of wicked delight. He lets Grant tug him up onto his chest and start kissing him, and soon both of Grant's hands are cupping Frank's face and their hips are rubbing together just right, and Frank's pretty sure he can get off just like this, slow and lazy and perfect. Then the sheets shift and Gerard rolls over and says, "Really?" in a bleary voice.

"Yes, really," Grant answers, sounding vastly amused.

"It's _early_ ," Gerard tells him crankily.

"No one said you had to get up yet, Princess," Frank teases him.

" _You're_ up," Gerard whines, and Frank wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully before rolling off of Grant and onto Gerard.

"Yeah I am." He rubs the side of his face under Gerard's jaw and bites at his chin, poking at Gerard's sensitive spots until he gets dumped unceremoniously back between Grant and Gerard. Gerard palms Frank's dick, then squeezes, fingers slipping loosely up and down the silky skin. "Yeah," Frank mutters in approval. "More, Gee, more."

Grant leans across Frank's body to cup the back of Gerard's neck and pull him in for a kiss. "It's still early," Gerard tells him when they pull apart.

"I'll make it worth your while," Grant replies, fingers trailing down Frank's chest to tweak a nipple, trace the curve of his pec.

It's already worth it as far as Frank's concerned, most-beloved hands waking up his skin inch by inch. He moans and squirms against Gerard's hands, Grant's lips, vice versa, until he's gasping and coming, slow and intense.

When he blinks his way out of the orgasm-haze, Gerard's smiling down at him. "Morning," Frank says with an answering smile.

"Pest." Gerard doesn't sound upset. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it even more disordered, and looks over to Grant, who is propped back up against the pillows, looking relaxed as shit despite being half-hard. He's ridiculously fucking handsome, but it's more fun to watch Gerard dodge Frank and crawl up the mattress.

"Will I be called a pest now?" Grant asks, a sparkle in his eye and a gentle hand on Gerard's cheek.

"Are you going to do something annoying?" Gerard replies smartly.

Grant considers him for a moment, then says, "Get up." When they're both on their feet, Grant steers Gerard backwards across the carpet to the bathroom. The confusion on Gerard's face is hilarious, and Frank leans across the bed, heedless of the mess on his own skin, to keep them in sight. "I'm surprised you're not in motion yet, darling," Grant says over his shoulder, and then Frank gets it, scrambling off the bed just as Grant reaches for the knobs to start the shower and steers Gerard into the enclosure.

"I take it back," Gerard gasps in his most breathy diva voice. "You're not a pest, you're _evil_."

It's a glass shower enclosure, so Frank can watch the water slide down their bodies. It also makes Grant's delighted laugh echo.

"Don't believe my press, my love." He glances over his shoulder and shares a wicked grin with Frank, then turns back to Gerard. Frank hurries to join them just as Gerard's back hits the wall and Grant's knees hit the floor.

Frank pulls the door to the shower closed behind him and leans against the shower wall in the place where he can best see both their faces. Grant leans close to Gerard, but seems to be waiting for something. Gerard bites his lower lip and stares down at Grant, who runs his hands up Gerard's thighs and rests them on his hips, thumbs sweeping so so close to Gerard's cock.

Finally Gerard gasps and pants, "Please, Grant."

Grant smirks up at him. "Please what, love?""

"Please suck me, please," Gerard begs.

"With pleasure," Grant murmurs and takes Gerard's cock in his mouth.

"Frankie," Gerard whispers, pleading. Frank moves into Gerard's space, nuzzles his neck and kisses under his jaw. He also wraps an arm around Gerard's waist and when Gerard's legs buckle a little bit from something Grant does with his tongue, Frank helps keep him up. Grant pauses, letting Gerard get back on solid footing and when he whines, swallows down Gerard's cock again. His eyes are closed against the water from the shower and he looks so fucking peaceful and beautiful on his knees in front of them, Frank can hardly stand it.

The fact that he is still very much in control here, even on his knees with a cock in his mouth, is readily apparent when he opens his eyes and looks at Frank. He pulls off Gerard's cock and says, "Frank, use your fingers on him," before going back to business. Gerard moans and rolls his head against the tile of the shower. Frank does as he's told, first tweaking Gerard's nipples and then working down, swirling around the base of Gerard's cock and touching Grant's lips before moving back, stroking the spot just behind Gerard's balls over and over and over until he whines and then moving back further still and rubbing back and forth over Gerard's entrance, just enough to make Gerard buck up into Grant's mouth.

"So fucking gorgeous, Gee," Frank whispers in his ear and cups his balls for a moment, then moves his hand back up to stroke Gerard's chest. Gerard whines and Grant makes a noise in the back of his throat, so Frank reaches back down and wraps a hand around the base of Gerard's cock. Grant's lips meet his fingers every time and if Frank could get it up, he would at that.

Gerard clutches at his thigh, runs the hand not grasping Frank all the way up over his own chest, before resting his hand on Grant's head. Grant looks up, first at Frank, then at Gerard, and clearly does something clever with his tongue because Gerard is immediately stiffening in his arms and coming. Frank watches Grant's throat work as he swallows, strokes over his lips one last time before Grant pulls back with a gasp, breathing hard.

Gerard flails weakly, trying to grab at Grant's shoulders. Frank's a little nervous to let go of him, but he does for a second, reaching out to help Grant up off the floor of the shower and into Gerard's arms.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Gerard pants.

"Worth waking up for?" Grant asks.

"Definitely," Gerard says and grinds his hips against Grant's. Grant moans. Gerard's wobbling a bit; he moves to sit down on the little bench in the shower, maneuvering Grant into Frank's arms. Frank reaches between them and strokes Grant's cock.

"Mmm, that's wonderful, but I think -" Grant nods and turns Frank around so he's facing the wall and crowds against him, cock sliding between Frank's ass cheeks. "Yes, that's perfect."

Grant keeps moving and god, this is almost as good as actually getting fucked. Grant's weight is against him and his cock is sliding _just there_ and god, seriously. Frank's so close to getting hard again. It doesn't take long until Grant is gasping against the back of Frank's neck and coming.

"God," Frank mutters into the tile. He turns around and lets Grant gather him close, listening to Grant's breath and the rush of water and breathing in the steam.

"Told you not to believe my press," Grant jokes weakly into his ear. He kisses Frank just below his eye and Frank sighs happily. He feels movement beside him - Gerard, standing up and stepping close to run his fingers over Frank's head.

"I'd wash your hair right now," Gerard muses, "But you sort of don't really have much anymore."

"You could wash your own hair," Frank points out drily. Gerard makes a rude noise, but reaches past them for the soap and soaps up Frank's skin instead. Frank could stay in here for ages, but he's also thinking longingly of coffee and cigarettes, and he's sure he's not the only one.

The three of them make quick work out of bathing, and Grant's the one who actually ends up washing Gerard's hair while Frank watches with interest. Gerard also looks like he's a few notches of recovery time away from getting it up again, and Frank briefly entertains the idea of coaxing them both back into bed, but the thought of wandering through Nagoya Castle with his guys and his camera wins, and he rinses quickly and jumps out for a towel while Grant and Gerard follow suit.

Finally, nicotine and caffeine cravings satisfied, they head to the castle and nearby Atsuta Shrine. Frank feels like the morning flies; he takes dozens and dozens of photos while the haze of Grant's, Gerard's, and Ray's conversation drifts behind him like a jet trail, talking about Shinto and trade routes and about the Noh play from last night.

If it's a haze, it's a pleasant one; Grant stops him under the temple _torii_ to peek at the camera screen, and his breath on Frank's neck is warm and sweet. Gerard squeezes his hand when they peer through the windows of the castle's tea house. He gets a series of shots of the two of them on the observation deck, silhouetted against the city skyline, and his chest feels a little tight, but in a good way.

It's a good morning.

They have lunch in the hotel restaurant, everyone gathered around a big table. Frank's got Grant on his right, Ray on his left, and Gerard and Mikey on the other side of Grant. It's about as perfect as life gets on tour. Frank takes Grant's hand under the table and turns to ask Ray what he plans to do with their days off in Tokyo; it's always fun to ask Ray that sort of question because it always leads to excited gesticulation about various techie things and video games. Grant laces their fingers together, turns in his chair so he's half-draped over Frank's back, and listens too. Grant makes a comment about a specific game Ray mentions and then it's all over, the two of them getting lost in a conversation about the game and the art and the story. Frank's never heard of it, but Grant keeps up with these things more than he does. And he loves listening to them talk.

He catches Gerard's eye at one point when he glances around the table and Gerard grins at him. He knows what Gerard's saying with that grin; Grant fits with them. Like they fit with each other. He's part of their family.

Nobody seems particularly eager for lunch to end. They all eat slowly, drink lots of green tea, and then order dessert and drag that out too. Finally they really must head to the venue to get ready and do soundcheck, and by the time they're in the venue, the nervousness and excitement sets in. Mostly nervousness, if Frank is being honest.

Soundcheck goes well, so Frank feels a little more relaxed when they are back in the green room. He keeps having to remind himself that this isn't even their first concert in this leg; it just _feels_ different, because - well, Grant. Frank's given up on wishing his stage fright away. The guys let him jitter and pace; they're used to him, and Grant takes his cue from them. Frank's watching him talk to Dewees about something or other when Mikey comes up beside Frank and bumps their shoulders together.

"You're not hanging from the rafters," Mikey comments. "Having a good day?"

"What do you think?" Frank laughs. "You are a sneaky motherfucker, Mikeyway, how did you even keep all of this quiet?" Mikey just raises his eyebrows until Frank rolls his eyes and says, "Fine. I bet your wife set this all up with Lauren, anyway," and then Frank gets poked with a bony-ass elbow.

"She has your dogs, by the way, I don't know if I told you."

"You didn't, but I sort of figured Grant didn't just leave them and the cats alone," Frank points out.

"Dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria," Mikey quotes in a monotone, and Frank cracks up.

"Grant told us about it at breakfast." Frank leans harder against Mikey's shoulder. "She's watching the cats for a couple weeks, too. He's going to try to get onto our flight to the UK and go on to Glasgow, work from the house there until our show."

Mikey nods, and they watch Gerard and Ray - and their mirror reflections - gesture about something over in the makeup corner for a minute before Mikey speaks up again.

"You all look really happy." It's just a gentle observation, Mikey-style, and Frank knows he's not even looking for confirmation, but he can't help responding anyway.

"I love your brother more than anything," he says. "I always have. Even when it was tough, even when it was _impossible_. But this - I've never felt like this before." He lets the soft warmth flood through him, knows he's smiling. Gerard happens to look across the room at that very moment and they share a look for a moment before Gerard's eyes drift to Mikey, then crinkle at the corners as he looks back at Ray. "So yeah. We are. Is my point."

"Figured." Mikey sounds amused. "I'm glad, Frankie." Frank takes the opportunity to sneak in a quick, squeezing hug, and Mikey hugs back one-armed until Grant comes walking over and Frank detaches himself to hug Grant instead.

Grant wraps his arms around Frank and grins down at him. Frank grins back. He hears Mikey gag next to them, but when Frank looks, Mikey is totally smiling, the faker.

"Thank you again for your help," Grant tells Mikey, who nods. "And thank your lovely wife again for taking care of our menagerie on such short notice for me." Frank feels warm all over hearing Grant refer to all the animals as theirs.

"I'll tell her." Mikey grins at them and they talk for a minute before Pedicone calls Mikey over for his expert opinion on wrestling.

"I'm really glad you're here," Frank tells Grant.

"As cliche as it might be, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be," Grant says with a kiss to Frank's forehead. "How are you, darling?"

Frank rubs his face against Grant's chest. "Nervous. You're here," Frank admits quietly. "I mean, I'd be nervous anyway. But."

Grant strokes a hand over Frank's head. "I felt the same when you read the first issue of Batman, Inc. Do you need me to let you be?"

"Not yet," he says and pulls back a little, turning so Grant's arm is around his waist and he can see everyone milling around. Pre-show rituals are starting to happen. Little habits and tics they all have. Frank's fingers are twitching with the need to move. He ignores it for the time being and leans his head against Grant's shoulder.

Frank catches sight of Gerard fiddling with the iPod hooked up to the room's speakers and makes a face. It makes him twitchy when people mess with the pre-show playlists and Gerard knows it. But then the opening chords of "Across The Universe" come over the speakers.

"Oh," Frank whispers. Grant squeezes his arm around Frank's waist.

"Oh?" Grant says. Over at the iPod dock, Gerard is watching them with a thoroughly goofy little smile.

"It took Gerard a while," Frank explains, "to notice I tend to play this song whenever I'm thinking about you."

"So...all the time, then?" Grant's voice is gently teasing, and he rubs his chin over the crown of Frank's head.

Frank laughs. "Enough of the time." He closes his eyes for a moment to listen and feels Grant's fingers lifting his chin, kissing him gently enough that he loses himself in it until another set of hands close around his waist. "Hey, Gee," he murmurs when he pulls back from Grant's mouth, and Gerard kisses his cheek. "Listen, I gotta go and - " he loses his words and just waves vaguely, fingers already curling and flexing.

"Go, Frank," Grant tells him, and Gerard squeezes his waist and then lets go. He goes to pace in the corner, breathing in time to whatever song the iPod shuffled to and focusing his energy down through his arms and fingers. He can still see Gerard and Grant, having a quiet conversation as Grant smooths a few random strands of red hair into place - a lost cause, especially before a show, but Gerard looks blissed out enough by the attention that Frank's own pulse settles a bit. He closes his eyes and keeps breathing.

Soon they get the word from the stage manager and they gather for their group hug, Frank crowded between Mikey and Pedicone, fingers light against Gerard's arm. He's got tunnel vision for the walk to the stage, as always, but when he hits his mark and pokes at his pedals with the toe of his sneaker he glances up to watch Gerard taking his own place, shooting a brief beaming glance at Frank before cutting his eyes sidestage as he grabs his microphone. Frank follows his gaze to where Grant is watching, catching Grant's eye and getting his own smile in return.

Even as Frank tears into the opening chords, he's listening to Steve's voice boom from the speakers. " _...the future is bulletproof, the aftermath is secondary!_ "

Hell fucking yeah it is. Frank ducks his head, grins at his strings, and sings along.


End file.
